


Weapon X: Man or Animal

by justsimplymeagain



Series: Weapon X [2]
Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Entering the mind, Gen, Memories, Mind Control, Torture, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 64,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsimplymeagain/pseuds/justsimplymeagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No longer James Howlett, Jimmy, Logan or Wolverine but Weapon X who was rescued from one of many bases. It's now up to Victor and the X-Men to rehabilitate him. Can it be done? Will Victor and Logan be brothers or enemies? Sequel to "Return of Weapon X"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Damage was clearly seen on the grounds of the Mansion, inside the mansion old bloodstains and deep set claw marks were seen in most hallways as Weapon X tore through the place. Killing anything his claws could touch. On order. The students have yet to be returned to the school, and Charles decided that wouldn't be a good idea so he kept them at another undisclosed location to protect them.

At the mansion here, he only had the bases of people on hand. Hank also known as Beast, Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin also known as Peter or Colossus, there was himself for obvious reasons, Kurt Wagner also known as Nightcrawler, Scott Summers also known as Cyclops. Not to mention their latest member, albeit reluctantly and temporarily Victor Creed who went by more than one alias in his time, but most commonly used Sabretooth.

They all had one mission, one objective. And that was to help not only one damaged mutant, but two. Their very own Wolverine, also known as Logan and in the past James Howlett. The newest face here as well, X-23. It was disturbing to refer to her as a number. It dehumanized her into nothing more than a mere weapon. From the information they gathered on her and the letter Doctor Sarah Kinney left her name would have been Laura Kinney if she was born in a more civil means.

Doctor Kinney never made it out, and it was because of her that the X-Men managed to get both X-23 out as well as Wolverine who temporarily referred to himself as Weapon X. It was a disturbing turn of event. They had to keep the two of them locked up below. Very disturbing. Weapon X was unresponsive to humane treatment, offered help and showed many signs of post traumatic stress syndrome among other emotional problems that would have to be addressed immediately. The same went for X-23, though in a different level. She thought everything that happened to her was normal.

Charles remembered that night all too well, it was eerily calm and far too quiet for a city.

_Charles found himself staring out at the clear sky, he couldn't see the stars, but he could imagine them well enough. He found himself wondering back to good times, simple times. Back before the X-Men or his first attempt to form a team, Hank was the only one who was an X-Man from the start. Mystique and himself were pretty much siblings, only back then she was called Raven. He missed her, but this life she had and the life he had, was their choice in the end on that beach. And they both will live with the consequences and the rewards of their own separate paths._

_He found himself sitting there for a good hour until something started to bug him. It was quiet, too quiet. Turning on the television to create some noise he found the news not giving away anything other than the usual stuff on it. Most of it he found rather negative, and unappealing to watch. School was out; it was due to be in soon. But there were some children who lived here; they had nowhere else to go. They were all safely tucked away. Sleeping soundly. What he hoped all mutants could do one day, alongside humans._

_He could sense Ororo playing chess with Scott, Jean was watching. Those three got along rather well, if he thought so himself. His students, despite them being adults themselves now. They were still his students, his children in a way. He could imagine Alexander Summers, also known as Havok, would be proud of Scott. Or at least he liked to imagine that, but he was an old man who liked whimsical fantasies at times._

_Reaching out further, he tried to catch stray thoughts of random people who may be passing the school on a late night walk. No one._

_"Concerning." Charles said to himself as he reached out further. Nothing. It was like everything around this school was a ghost town, or city to be more correct. The lights suddenly went out, but from what he could see the power outage was only his property. A major give away that something was going to go down. He could feel the cautious curiosity from his students._

_'Get the children to safety; I fear we may be in for some trouble.' Charles thought, he made sure his students heard him loud and clear and he gave a gentle nudge to their minds to make sure they knew for a fact that he wasn't being a paranoid old man. He meant business, and they knew well enough now to not double-guess his orders. Their caution now raised and their professionalism as well, they made him proud._

_Quickly, quietly they woke the children and started to move them towards the escape exits, the children were dazed and afraid, not to mention confused. But Charles couldn't focus too much on that as a mind caught his attention, but only briefly. It was pained, confused and angry. Not thinking for himself from what Charles managed to figure out, and the man was acting on orders alone. Then, nothing like something so savage and dare he say completely feral protecting that mind from Charles's own abilities._

_And there was only one person he knew who could actually become invisible to him while being in the same room!_

_'Hurry! We're under attack!' Charles thought to Scott who now relayed it as calmly as he could and as considerate as possible to get the children wide awake and to safety. The older students, Jubilee and Peter included will look after the children. Rogue refused to leave, and she was old enough to make her decisions and Charles now knew she would have to live with her decisions._

_He picked up Scott's thoughts, asking him '_ Who'

'Wolverine. But I doubt he's acting on his own accord if what I managed to pick up is correct. Use extreme caution, and use lethal force against him.' _Charles replied quickly, as he moved away from the windows. He was useless at the moment, but he kept reaching out to any mind he can find and kept trying to get into Wolverine's feral controlled mind. It was no use!_

_Charles could hear the sound of glass shattering and a snarl that seemed to carry through the darkened hallways. Then, a roar from Hank as he came face-to-face with Wolverine first. Charles could hear Wolverine growl back, words were exchanged, but were one-sided and only from Hank. Then, it was safe to say all hell broke loose!_

_"Hank!" Charles heard Scott yell, then the sound of Scott's own ability was heard and a loud thud. Someone getting knocked back and hard. A roar or outrage, a human sound to it, but it was completely inhumane at the same time. From here he could hear the sound those claws make when scratching deep grooves into the floor, wall's and anything else in Wolverine's way._

_He would have to enter the hallway himself, he would have to catch sight of Wolverine in order to give a harder attempt to get into his mind. Shut him down, and save whoever may otherwise die by those metal coated claws. Rolling himself confidently out of the classroom that doubled as his office, it had a nice balcony attached to it. He caught sight of the frenzy, and the smell of blood was thick enough that even he could pick it up. He didn't know whose it was by scent, but by thought he knew it was Hank's._

_"Are you alright Hank." Charles asked as he wheeled to a stop near the panting large mutant whose blue fur on his arms was now matted with dripping fresh blood. It was one of those nights where Hank wore a short sleeve Hawaiian top._

_"I've been better, dealing with the Brotherhood is a lot easier then dealing with this frenzied scrapper." Hank answered; despite the pain his voice still carried that intelligent tone as it always does. But the small growls of pain coming from Hank was a testament to the feral part of Hank, a beast in itself with a temper as nasty as Wolverine's on the worse of days._

_"I don't doubt that at all." Charles agreed, sensing before he saw, Rogue approaching._

_"Professor, you shouldn't be out here!" Rogue's worried voice reached him, she was at his side. Her gloved hands touching his arm gently. Afraid of contact even through gloves because of her ability._   
_"I'm perfectly fine here Rogue, you don't have to worry about me." Charles answered calmly he may be paraplegic, but he had more abilities than most would imagine. He wasn't the worlds greatest psychic for nothing. Adding confidently,_   
_"I'm quite capable of handling myself despite appearances."_

_"But…" Rogue protested in a small voice, her concern for him touched him, but it wasn't needed at the moment.  
_   
_"Logan. Can you hear me?" Charles said out loud, to his X-Men, however he gave them an order,'stand down for now, until you are needed.' They nodded, they understood by instinct and their trust in him. He persisted, the second he heard the snarling get louder and Wolverine come into view,_   
_"Logan?"_

_Despite the casual tone he used, a confident tone. He was shocked and it was safe to say he was horrified by what he saw. There was Wolverine, stark naked with wires and other controlling devices hanging off his body. Charles couldn't see his eyes, but knew they were wild looking. The helmet had a visor of sorts on it, further control no doubt. Some of the wires buried underneath his skin and seemed to go for a few inches before disappearing. Deeper no doubt. Charles could see three battery like things hanging off his waist concealing some, but not much of Wolverine's dignity. Or what was left of it, if any at all._

_Charles reached out mentally, trying to get Logan to acknowledge their presence in any way, but just found himself met by a wall of feral rage and a deep thirst for blood. To kill. His only purpose was to kill._

_"Logan you have to stand down, now! You hear me! Or you will do something you'll regret for the rest of your life, do you hear me?" Charles called out, knowing full well the savage man could hear him fine. But as Charles knew and expected it to. It fell on deaf ears, and Wolverine charged._

_"Professor!" Scott insisted, hand traveling to his visor as a precaution._

_"No." Charles said firmly, a frown marred his features as he put his hands to his own temples. He focused in a general location, and the feral wall he kept meeting now that he knew how exactly to look for it, despite the fact that the mind he was trying to reach was still unreachable and nearly invisible to him in a sense. Using an ability he nicknamed for the sake of others, he used a psionic blast. Which focused correct allows him to project psionic force bolts which have no physical effect, but can affect a victims mind. It could cause the victim pain, unconsciousness and if Charles allowed it to, it could kill._

_He was using it as a deterrent against Wolverine, and it worked to a point. It forced Wolverine back and to one knee. Snarling and growling he shook his head savagely, Charles noted that it reminded him of a dog who was trying to shake something off of its head. It didn't dislodge the helmet at all, but he could see blood. The helmet was on him pretty good. He could tell his X-Men were stunned slightly, they knew what he could do, but didn't know how ready he was to use his own abilities._

_And he used a strong enough psionic blast to knock Wolverine unconscious, him getting up to his feet again was a testament to the feral mutant's strength in his mind alone._

In the end Charles remembered he had to get Scott to use his own ability while Charles masked their presence well enough and created a strong enough illusion to distract Wolverine long enough for them to back up out of the strike range of Wolverine. It gave them a bit of time to refocus, regroup and come up with a strategy that could be useful. Storm's own ability became a big help, her lightning was a bigger deterrent in some ways, then Charles's own mind, but he could tell Wolverine was wary of it now. He didn't want the man to be wary, but it needed to be done.

Unfortunately the fight took most of the night, and by morning they all had injuries including Charles himself. And Wolverine was called back by his; Charles wasn't sure what to call them at the moment. Handlers? Masters? Enslavers? Perhaps each title was fit at the moment, and it gone well for them given they used a whistle. He only knew that thanks to Hank who heard it as well. It was that whistle that probably saved his life.

_Wolverine got past everyone, and everyone was worse for the count and Storm was getting tired from shooting lightning at a quick Wolverine. Unfortunately one reason why Wolverine was let loose on them had become painfully clear as Charles, despite how many abilities he's tried found himself out of his chair and his toes touching the ground, Wolverine's tight and unforgiving grip on his throat holding him up._

_He couldn't help, but focus on the claws as much as his own terrified expression in the red glass of the helmet that somehow survived the fight. He never knew how frightening those claws could be when gleaming in your face and dripping with your student's blood. Ready to add his own blood as decoration._

_"Logan…" Charles choked out. Desperate to reach the man who ignored his please and the grip he had on Wolverine's arm. Even ripping at the wires didn't work or slow him down. Neither did attacking the batteries. It has become apparent that they may be for the helmet not the control over Wolverine._

_"Logan no!" Charles heard Rogue scream, she removed her glove and Charles forced her into unconsciousness. He didn't want any of this in her, it would be damaging to the young lady and to them as well. Who knew what would happen to everyone if Rogue had what this was in her._

_The claws bent further back, ready to strike before they came at him quickly. Stopping short in front of his eyes, they truly were intimidating tools. Something got Wolverine's attention, something else. His head tilted, hesitation then Charles found himself crumbling to the ground uncontrollably. Wolverine took off through the window with Scott shooting after him, but didn't move from the spot he stood, next to the fallen Professor himself._

It always made him wonder what made him hesitate. Did Wolverine truly want to kill him? Did Wolverine not want to go? Charles didn't know for sure, but he had to figure that out. And he had the time now to do so.


	2. Chapter 2

Charles took hold of the folder of the current reports on Wolverine from when they rescued him to now. They weren't entirely promising, but he didn't have any doubt in that after all it was unavoidable given the fact that it took them up to ten months to find him after his initial attack on the mansion and the new member to join not even a day after. They only had Wolverine and the young lady for three weeks.

In Laura's folder laid a letter he kind of doubted he could ever give Laura, she wouldn't understand it at the moment. It was a letter from her mother. Charles felt a pang of sorrow and guilt for that; he wished he found them first before Doctor Kinney had to go to drastic measures to find him which was the cause of her untimely death. He has yet to decide on contacting her sister.

Charles might not have played a huge role in the rescue, but he still felt like his hands were full of blood anyway. As though he was down there as well.

_The X-Men dispatched from the X-Jet only seconds ago, a young woman laid dead in the snow with a young girl confused and ready to kill near her side. She didn't understand why she was outside, or what her mission was that drew her out here rather than in there were Logan and the soldiers were. From what Scott told him through the walkie-talkie they used to remain in contact, most of the people were dead. And people still getting killed._

_It was obvious that the previous killings set off Logan, and not in a good way. But in a promising way, he was set off no doubt by the promise of freedom. Or at least that's what Charles hoped as he directed Kitty and Rogue how to deal with the lethal girl younger than they were. She was only around eleven years old, killing for most of her young life already. And it was obvious that this life, the life she had here was all that she knew and all that she understood. It pained him._

_Charles ended up helping them in distracting her by light taps to her mind, gentle. He didn't want to harm her; he didn't know her resistance level. In the end it wasn't high enough, she was unconscious, restrained and brought aboard the X-Jet by Rogue. Kitty gathered the last remaining things Doctor Kinney had on her person. He could tell being around a body like this bothered Kitty, but she had to hold it together for now._

_"Bring the bag to me Shadowcat so I…" Charles started when his walkie-talkie showed life while it sat on his lap. He used her codename simply because they were out on the field and it wouldn't be a great idea to mention her name here._

_"Do you want the doctors dead, or alive." A gruff voice interrupted, reluctant and disgusted. Charles figured that the disgust was for two reasons, one the doctors in front of him and for having to 'ask' in order to do what came frighteningly natural to him. The reluctant was solely for the seeking permission. Charles suspected that, despite his words Victor would do what he wanted anyway. There was no controlling that man, and Charles can only half way reason with him. He was worse than Logan on a bad day half the time. And that was saying something right there._

_"I would prefer them to remain alive and delivered to S.H.I.E.L.D authorities." Charles stated, yes he knew that it wouldn't do so well in some ways, but it was better then needless slaughter and with Nick Fury as head of S.H.I.E.L.D, then they stood a chance of getting justice served. Hopefully._

_"Ya, you keep on livin' in 'at dreamworld o' yours. Everything all nice an' fair..." A gruff mocking tone came from the walk-talkie and Charles could practically picture the expression Victor would be wearing at this point in his mind clearly._

_"I will not get into one of these with you, Sabretooth. And no, I am not under any illusion of fairness here. But we are held to do the rig…" Charles started to say, his tone as usual with Victor was patient and as calm as he could. He found strangely enough that it worked for him as well as it did with Logan, until their tempers grew too high. Then, he usually had a slight problem. And he has over a thousand dollars worth of damage this week alone from Victor's temper tantrums. At least he's focusing it on lifeless objects instead of anything that has a beating heart and alive._

_"You mean yer held to do the right thing, Professor Righteous. But I ain't." Victor interrupted, as usual his voice was still mocking that caused a slight frown to start to form. It was aggravating on how Victor could taunt and mock as easy as it is for polite people to say 'hello and how are you'._

_"You will…" Charles started to insist, but he already had a feeling that Victor was going to deliberately disobey and do what Charles didn't want him to do. He was such a child, but in a very deadly way. After all a child won't go and kill someone brutally for the fun of it or violate an innocent woman no matter what her trade is._

_"Sorry Prof. Busy." Victor's gruff voice confirming what Charles already figured he'd do. Not bothering to hide the disappointed frown Charles simply stared at the small black object in his hands, the walkie-talkie he was using to keep in contact with his X-Men. The building was very well-built to keep him from reading or detecting anyone inside, it was no wonder they kept Logan hidden for so long. And the girl Doctor Kinney spoke of during their brief conversation two days ago was now safely tucked away on the jet._

_Then Charles heard screaming over the walkie-talkie. He nearly flinched and suspected that Victor let him hear that on purpose. Inside the base; he could hear gunshots, roars, screams and the echoed sounds of a fight going on. He was useless!_

_"How can he… Why is he still around Professor?" Kitty asked as she handed the bag over, she was anxious to get in there that much Charles could sense. The girl was far braver then most give her credit for._

_"Because he needs us in order to get what he wants, and we need his help to save Logan. That is the only reasons I can give you." Charles answered and prayed that it was good enough._

Unfortunately in Charles's opinion, now that he was looking back. It wasn't a good reason to keep someone who enjoys violence as much as Victor Creed did, but he wasn't one to turn away any mutants who needed a refuge and in turn was willing to help him and his cause. And for the moment, Victor was putting up with his payments and playing ball as any good conman could. The only difference is, Victor didn't put on a friendly smile in order to con you. Charles was too smart for that, as was his X-Men. So Victor didn't even bother, either that or he just didn't see the point in it.

Though he had to admit, the first time he saw so much raw emotion visible on Victor was when the found and rescued Logan from that awful place. Charles wouldn't wish that place on anyone, not even the worst of the worse. He never knew someone who could be as cold as Victor Creed could be, could wear so many different emotions. It nearly gave Charles a headache. But then again, everyone had mixed emotions and the unconscious rage he could feel from Logan, even in his sleep was unsettling. But expected.

_Charles, Kitty and Rogue were waiting impatiently and taking out soldiers from above so they don't blitz any of his X-Men inside. He couldn't live with himself if that happened, and he pitied the soldiers, they were forced and coerced to sign non-disclosure agreements. And they all suspected that the punishment for letting anything slip would be a one way ticket to the morgue. Poor men._

_"Professor!" Charles heard Scott's voice, it startled him and caused the two youngest X-Men with him to circle closer to him. They were eager no doubt to know what was happening, as was Charles._

_"What happened? Is everyone alright." Charles immediately asked, desperate to know the answers. He needed to know!_

_"Yes, everyone's fine. A fire started but Iceman managed to put it out quickly and efficiently." Scott's voice answered, out of breath and cautious._

_"Do you have Wolverine?" Charles asked calmly, he won't keep Scott long due to knowing that the man is probably neck deep in things at the moment and as the leader he had a lot to deal with and to control._

_"We have him cornered, he's not coming easy and fighting us as much as he's fighting them. I think he suspects we'll harm him or treat him as they have. Sabretooth is dealing with him using a more hands on approach with Colossus. We're currently trying to knock him out… Nothing's working… And Jean… Iceman's coming your way with her now. Wolverine caught her pretty good on the back." Scott reported, quick and clean. Charles had to respect that._

_"Oh no…" Rogue's voice quietly said from his left. He ignored her._

_"Give Iceman a chance to get Jean out of the way, then get Sabretooth and Colossus to lure Wolverine outside." Charles ordered, and it was clear that this was an order you didn't disobey. A quick 'Yes sir' from Scott informed him that the man understood and would do just that._

_And with that the conversation was over, it was up to Scott now to get things done until everyone's outside. Then, it would be Charles's job, as much as it pained him he will have to try to knock Wolverine out using his own mind. And it was appearing that it would be necessary._

_It was the longest wait he's ever done in his life since the whole fiasco with losing his ability to walk; it was still a topic he didn't bring up with his old friend. Despite all appearances he knew a part of the man still felt guilty for that day on the beach. But he blamed Moira for it, she was human after all. Heaven forbid if anyone else was at fault._

_Charles could see that, despite the metal appearance of the young man, who went by the mutant name Colossus during missions when he was actually needed. The young man was injured, discovered adamantium was tougher than his own natural metal. But it was Victor who was fairing the worse though, blood dripped off of him like a tap turned on a quarter ways. He was breathing hard and holding a struggling Logan with Colossus's help while Charles was trying once again to get into Logan's savage mind._

_It wasn't easy. It was far from easy, in fact he couldn't do much other than push his will onto the other man instead of trying to reason or read the mind that was fighting him off._

_But he did it. And Logan slumped down, and even in sleep he didn't look at peace or calm for that matter. But it wasn't Logan that had his attention; it was Victor who took on all of the extra weight in a possessive manner that spoke of selfish siblings who didn't give too easily. He never saw so much raw concern and shock. Victor even murmured barely audible words of comfort. Quite frankly, Charles didn't know it was possible for Victor to show so many different emotions._

_It all ranged from concern to horror to anger to rage to bloodlust to helpless then back to anger and then once more concern. And it happened fast and kept repeating, Charles cursed old minds for being rather pushy and powerful when used right. No one alive other than those two had minds tough enough though, and Logan bested his brother in that department._

It took them less time to get back to the mansion then it took them to get to the base that Governments would deny existing; Hank was waiting for them in order to tend to injuries. Charles had to face the fact that they ended up having to keep Logan and the young lady restrained in a separate room then the injured. He couldn't trust either of them to not harm any of the vulnerable.

Which led him to the current situation.

He had two badly wounded mutants who were both used to being mistreated, ordered and killing. Not to mention Logan was pretty bad off himself, he was refusing to go by any human name. In fact, they had to address him as Weapon X and worse yet they had yet to get Logan to actually talk past forced answers and grunts. He never turned his back on them. Not even for a moment.

The young lady, X-23 or preferred by Charles as Laura was similar, but had this disposition of inability to think for herself very well accept for hints of the ability. She didn't do anything unless she was told to do it, and even then you had to address it as a mission of sorts. She was more willing to talk though when needed.

Charles folded his hands and realized not for the first time, they had a lot of work ahead of them and not just them, but Logan and Laura as well. Those two had a lot of rehabilitation that had to happen before he let them around anyone who wasn't capable of handling themselves. It was why he had to lie to parents about the school being under reconstruction while their children had to take homeschooling. And those who lived at the school were sent to a smaller estate Charles owned on the countryside. They treated it as a vacation, and Charles was glad for that. He had a few of the older students look after everyone there and Moira who he kept in contact with after the entire fiasco. She didn't have much of her memory of them and the situation, but he gave her back some. Controlled which memories she remembered though, he couldn't have her knowing everything.

It would risk too much, and Charles wasn't willing to take that risk.

Two monitor screens were set up in his classroom that doubled as an office. One of Logan and one of Laura. Laura was sitting cross legged on the bed, cutting herself. He had to find a way to deal with that. Logan wasn't on the bed, he was pacing the cell. And Charles noticed now that he never touched the bed at all. When he slept it was on the floor. When he sat it was on the floor. He curled up in a corner when uncomfortable and trying to escape; now that he knew that he couldn't get past the bars.

A pang of guilt sprang up again; Charles hated having to keep them there. But until he was sure of whether or not it would be safe to let them out, he couldn't risk that. So he will wait until more than one person is strong enough to handle them first. Then he will release them into the mansion under constant watch.


	3. Chapter 3

Things happened fast that much Weapon X could acknowledge. They happened far too fast for his liking, but it was seldom that he got a choice in speed or how things were done. Especially when he was in one of the many laboratories or on one of the many missions he's always sent on. And all he remembered was being this. Being a weapon and nothing more than a weapon.

He had emotions. They didn't matter.

He felt pain. That didn't matter.

He had a mind. It didn't matter, only his physical status mattered and if he could accomplish his missions. And he could. He was a weapon, and he was the best there was at doing what he was designed to do. It was why his handlers hired him out so much, one mission after another. A sea of red was all he left behind in all of his missions.

But this place. This place was different.

So Weapon X figured that this place wasn't one of the bases of operation he was accustomed to. It didn't have the stink of blood, fear, hatred, misery and death. There wasn't any loss of hope from what Weapon X figured, not that he knew too much about that when it came to others. He knew bad things happened at any of the bases he was at, which was another thing that seems to set this place apart from where he usually stayed.

Unless of course, it's new. And new was never a good thing, his handlers and masters would want to try out new things and old things in new places.

Weapon X closed his eyes for a moment, remembering one of the many favorites they had.

_Weapon X found himself restrained on a metal slab. It was cold. The lights were too bright. He was too vulnerable, and naked under scrutiny. He didn't care. He cared. He didn't want to! His arms stretched out to the side, palms up. Legs closed. Voices, talking. Didn't matter. Mocking! The words, despite how mocking those words were to him, were nothing more than background noise. Beeping, computers._

_Nothing mattered._

_Weapon X knew what they were going to do now, someone obviously required a kidney or some other organ. Or they needed more test samples. It was harvest time. And true to that Weapon X felt a knife cut down his stomach, kept cutting while two other doctors opened him to their eyes. Weapon X snarled and roared in unforgivable anger. No matter how many times they've done this, no matter how many times they will do this. It doesn't stop the pain that's caused by the constant cutting, constant digging and tearing._

_The pain was the only thing he could look forward to in one of these settings, and if someone got too close to his mouth. He bites. And he takes chunks out of them. He liked the taste of their blood and the sound of their pain and fear._

_Weapon X couldn't even turn his head to look at the jars and the containers that they were setting his organs in. It was getting incredibly hard to keep focus and stay away as they kept cutting, kept digging and his blood kept draining. Weapon X let his lip curl in anger, but it was weakly done. So weakly they didn't see a point in acknowledging it or punishing it._

Weapon X's eyes snapped open as he growled angrily and paced the cage up and down, back and forth. Too many things set this place different. It was to clean. It was too spacious. He could walk around in it, this was unusual. He wasn't supposed to be able to walk around, stretch and there wasn't supposed to be anything his handlers would use themselves. The bed. The toilet. A sink. Weapon X knew what these things were, but he had no use for them.

So that all made him wonder where he was, why he was here and what his mission was. His purpose, what was going to happen to him here. Shaking his head angrily he went back to pacing the cage.

He was a weapon. An animal. Something to be used. He was what he was, and he couldn't run from it no matter how hard he tried or how fast he ran. He could smell blood, it set him on edge. He recognized this blood, the girl. He was told that the girl was his clone, and she was used just like he was. She went on missions with him, under handler's supervision of course.

They did well together, no one survived them.

She spilt blood first, at their last faculty. That only set him off. Weapon X remembered well enough that he was trying to get out after blood was spilt by his clone. And things were almost going well; the soldiers couldn't stop him no matter how many times they shot him or tried to shut him off. They failed, and they paid the ultimate price for that failure. His handlers learnt what fear truly was, their confidence and taunts gone instantly. Replaced by their own shared fear and wet pants.

Weapon X grinned savagely at the memory of that.

But just when things were going okay and he was getting out things gone wrong during his escape and his slaughter, very horribly wrong. He was attacked by mutants, they singled him out. Were they weapons too? No, Weapon X knew what a weapon was. They had too much… Too much of something to be weapons of any sort. So Weapon X knew they weren't. Or at least he was sure they weren't weapons.

Not weapons like Weapon X was.

But then what if they weren't weapons, but handlers of sorts. Enemies! They had to be! Enemies or handlers! One or the other, they couldn't be both. And that would mean punishment that would mean more pain and he will get to learn how they did things here.

Growling angrily he crouched in his corner, eyeing the door to the room outside this cage as a wild beast would. He couldn't do anything, but intimidation worked beautifully. But if intimidation didn't work, he used force until his handlers put him down to enforce their superiority over him. You had to in order to get him to co-operate, he was an animal. A weapon. A thing that didn't always obey on first command, but always on second. He never pushed it too third.

Weapon X remembered that he nearly killed the mutants, his mockeries or new handlers. One made of metal. The other who healed like he did. Weapon X didn't know why he smelt familiar, but it didn't matter to Weapon X. Nothing did.

Weapon X snarled angrily, he came to the conclusion that he hated them. He hated this. His mind kept telling him to obey his handlers, to kill on their command. His instincts are telling him to do the same, but for himself. To escape. Everyone had to die! Weapon X wanted them dead. He wanted everything dead; it was what he was meant for.

To kill. To keep killing.

He wasn't free to do anything else!

Weapon X's hearing faintly picked up the sound of footsteps beyond that metal door. They stopped, but the door didn't open and the footsteps didn't leave. He snarled. It was doing nothing more than driving him nuts, he couldn't smell who it was, he couldn't see who it was he only heard the faint sounds of footsteps. Even that wasn't reliable due to the thickness of the door that kept him from them. Not including the cage of course.

Weapon X picked up the faint scent of sulfur before the blue mutant appeared. Two things of food, Weapon X noted the tail twitched uncomfortably. Weapon X curled his lips and snarled in a threatening manner.

"Mein gott." A soft voice said. German. Weapon X knew that was German. My God was the translation. Whispers of memories he didn't own or have, all of it nonsense knowledge for a weapon with no faces or telling how he knows these things. Useless. Weapon X stood up, claws out.

"Here… Food…" The blue mutant he doesn't remember seeing when he was recaptured. Demonic looking mutant with opposite personality from what he could figure, not that he knew too much on the matter. Weapon X noted, but it meant nothing to him. He was programmed to note things, to remember and to obey. He was the best there was, it was why his handlers hired him out. He got the job done and he did it well. He left no one alive that was supposed to be dead. No one. Not even children.

He was the best. He was a weapon.

Weapon X watched cautiously as the food as the mutant said it was, is placed through an opening. Gently. Unfitting for a handler or perhaps too fitting. He didn't lunge at the blue mutant with a tail because of the stark contrast of outward behavior. It was offsetting, and Weapon X didn't like it. It was unnatural. The blue mutant looked at him for a moment, Weapon X may not understand much about many things other than doing what he was designed for. But he knew what he saw on the blue mutant's face.

Sadness.

Weapon X growled loudly. He was confused about why he saw such a blunt emotion directed at him. Directed at Weapon X of all things! He was a weapon! An animal! You don't feel sad for a weapon! His growling increased, and he could hear distinct sounds of a girl getting agitated. He didn't care! Within mere seconds he lunged at the bars separating him from the blue mutant, reaching through he tried to get a hold of it.

His rage for what he saw blinding him as his claws sprung out as he tried to cut the blue mutant, make it bleed. Make the blue mutant hate and get angry and rage, but at least there won't be anything resembling sad on the blue mutant's face. A distinct crash of a plate landing on the floor, the contents spilling all over the place. Weapon X felt the warmth of it against one leg and both feet. Moist. Warm. Threatening?

"Mein gott… Stop. You got to calm down!" The blue mutant ordered, no pleaded. Weak! Weapon X's growling increased as he kept trying to get at the blue mutant who was pleading with him. Begging him. Nearly roaring in rage he paced back and forth as a wild animal would while he was trying to get at the blue mutant who hurriedly put the second plate within reach of the girl who was in the second cage he couldn't see into.

And just like that the blue mutant was gone. Teleported?

Weapon X roared in rage. The smell of sulfur assaulted his nose again, but that meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Weapon X didn't know how long he raged, or even why anymore. He just did, angry. He was angry. But Weapon X couldn't figure out why, but it didn't matter. Faculties and laboratories always made him angry, and this had to be a faculty. It just had to be, nothing else made sense to him. Nothing at all, and that not knowing and not able to understand only worsened his moods.

The lights in the room were dimming; the girl in the cage next to his was quiet. Her breathing evened out, asleep. Weapon X finally stopped making noise, his stomach growled hungrily. But he didn't make a move to the cold scraps spilt on the floor. Was it edible? Smelt it. But Weapon X didn't really know for a fact, and didn't make a move to eat it off the floor.

He barely noticed the bread placed between the cages near the viewing part of the cage. Who? Weapon X didn't care. He crouched down and kept an eye on the door, more footsteps echoing faintly. Who? Handlers. Weapon X's lip curled in anger, but he didn't move even after he heard whispered unrecognized words that were muffled to a point he wouldn't hear if he wanted to.

Masters or handlers? Both perhaps.

The lights dimmed more, time to sleep. But Weapon X didn't care to. He just remained crouched in his corner eyeing the door and listening to silence and faint footsteps fading away. Figments.

Weapon X's claws remained out, ready and waiting. Light reflected off of them and Weapon X refused to look at the reflection of his face in them, he didn't know why, but he couldn't stand seeing a face he didn't recognize. It was a face of a stranger, a face he hated.


	4. Chapter 4

He wished, almost desperately that he knew what he was getting into when he first came to these clowns and offered his assistance. Strings attached and the general observation that he doesn't work in a team all that well. But Victor has been what he considered well-behaved for the ten months he went along with them, he followed their foolish dream-world rules and got the job done. Time and time again, hell he even played ball with them when they needed the extra person on one of their little X-Men save the world missions.

He surprised them with his ingenuity and ability to get things done with militaristic precisions. Made sense though, he's been a soldier for so many years. So many. They surprised him with the fact that they could actually get work done and bring down their targets with minimum civilian casualties and actually not look entirely stupid while they did so. Their costumes were questionable, and left little to imagination. He didn't mind it with the woman, but the men. Don't get him started.

He refused to wear those stupid tight black leather things that fit entirely too well.

And now, now he was sitting in a room at the mansion with a clear show of damages done by an attack his brother was made to do on a place he once called home. If Victor understood things correctly, and it was seldom that he didn't. He wasn't stupid; his arrogance only gave off that image. It was better for him and worse for his enemies. His room was clean, tidy and mostly kept untouched. Claw marks on the dresser where he leant against and dug his claws in. He did so in order to center himself. He had to. This place, this situation caused him stress like you wouldn't believe.

Victor Creed never dealt with stress all that well. And for ten months he was dealing with it. And refused help in every turn. He wasn't here too better himself, he wasn't here for himself. He was here to help a brother. A brother who didn't even remember him! A brother who didn't remember Victor's sacrifices! The wars they fought side by side! Both of them growing up in the wild! Both of them being friends and brothers and a pack in general!

Snarling angrily he gripped the arms of the chair he sat in. His body was healed, but his mind was running wild, and he felt gentle pokes as a nosy no good punching bag of a psychic kept checking up on him. He swore if that man kept pushing his luck, he'd be learning what his intestines looked like tied in a neat bow! Victor was shocked that he didn't learn about three months ago after a failed attempt at finding his brother when he tried to do the whole mind thing with him.

_Victor paced angrily; he was dressed in nothing more than normal clothes. Black pants. Black shirt, army boots and his favorite long black jacket. At least he was wearing the general theme shade for this group of geeks. Tucked in his shirt was two sets of dogtags, one was his and one was his brother's. James Howlett was the name on them, faded just like his brother's scent on them. No man or frail was allowed to touch his dogtags. They never survived to say sorry if they did._

_The Blue-Rug tended to injuries, and sympathetically listened to poorly hidden sobs and sorrows. Victor didn't show any emotion, he was as cold as steel. Why should he show his emotions like these weaklings? He left the infirmary after he got a clean bill of health, like there was any doubt. Sneering at them as the door closed behind him he stormed his way to the elevator. He was having an unlucky day, why, because the head of this whole operation came rolling out of the elevator he was going to use._

_Victor didn't grace him with a word as he moved to enter the elevator, he needed a drink when Xavier's voice caught his attention,_

_"I'm sorry that we didn't find your brother Victor." Victor sneered as he turned around._

_"Yer sorry? Wow, that just makes everything so much better. Thanks pal." Victor growled out, and cursed himself while he did so. He felt light touches to his mind, like feathers brushing across his brain itself. His growl increased in volume._

_"There's no need for this and there's no shame in talking about it, but there is absolutely no need for the sarcasm and attitude. Everyo…" Xavier's voice was cut off with a gasp as Victor lifted him right out of his wheelchair like he was nothing more than a light rag doll._

_"Let me get one thing straight, you ain't gonna be doin' that shrink shit with me. You ain't goin' to talk to me 'bout anyone else's hurt feelings or anything like that. 'cause quite frankly I don't give a rats ass about it. So go be the white night for others. I ain't interested." Victor growled angrily right in his face._

_"Sabretooth! You put the Professor down now!" A recognizable voice ordered. The so-called fearless leader. Fearless his ass, when he was a nothing more than a boy Victor made him shit himself just by being in front of his cage!_

Needlessly said, the good ol' Professor had a lot of work to do to clean up the mess. He didn't mention anyone else's sorrows or regrets at not finding Jimmy. No one talked about that around him, but they forget that he could hear the sound of normal breathing up to around two hundred feet away. And most didn't know that light could make a noise not a loud one, but it was enough for him to hear it. Most forget he has enhanced senses. Helped him in the end, them forgetting and him having them.

How Jimmy was able to live in a school with kids was beyond him. Kids stunk, hormones running high and perfume was bathed in. Glad the children weren't here though. Victor would have killed a good number of them by now. And that is only due to scents.

Victor had his room next to his brothers, and he hasn't really figured out if it was for the fact that it was his brother's room or to torture himself. Victor entered that room just once. Only once. And it was torn apart because of what Xavier called a tantrum. Victor was just venting, better in his brother's current room then on Summers face. The shit-face was pissing him off! He just doesn't know how to let go of the past.

Sneering angrily Victor stood up and stalked out of his room and storming past the white haired frail and the redhead. Jimmy always liked redheads for some foolish reason. Redheads and Japanese frails. He didn't get his horrible taste in frails from their father's side of the family that's for sure. He heard them protest behind him, but he didn't care. Weak. Stupid. Frail. Woman in his mind was nothing more than useless flesh bags for one use only.

He quickly found himself in the kitchen, he was hungry. He might as well get himself something to eat. And figure out how come it was taking so long to fix his brother. After all, the world's most powerful psychic was living richly here. Surely he could have done something by now. There wasn't much to choose from, so he ended up just settling for a sandwich full of meat and butter.

_Victor was crouched down unseen, between him and what was going on was dirty windows and the wind was just right. But still, Jimmy should have spotted him. He got weak, got sloppy. He should have sensed that he was being watched intently. He should have noticed his own brother stalking after him! But no, just revenge. Just that frail._

_"I thought you were the Moon and I was your Wolverine. Turns out you're the Trickster, and I'm just the fool who got played." Victor heard his brother say, he heard the broken hearted sorrow. But all he could think was, serves you right Jimmy._

Now however, Victor wasn't entirely sure. He remembered the happiness his brother had in his eyes when he looked at the frail. When he kissed her good-bye before going to work as a normal person when Jimmy wasn't normal at all. Victor had to admit, he was partially jealous. But that jealousy doesn't run as deep as his animal does. Doesn't run as strongly, if anything it just ignites a bloodthirsty need to carve away what he's jealous about. It was in his nature.

The X-Men were horrified by it. Trembled deep down because of it. And Victor relished in that fact.

They were on a mission, four months prior to finding Jimmy which led to the three weeks they held him below the mansion. Trying to fix him the old fashioned way.

_Victor chuckled, who would have thought that one of the contacts his old colleague used was an upstanding priest and humanitarian. Victor watched as the man panted in pain on the ground, Victor already got lectured and Jean Grey wasn't here to do her thing. The old fashioned way worked best, especially if the man didn't talk right away. And he didn't. Good choice in Victor's opinion._

_"Sabretooth. That's enough, we aren't here to kill him. Or hurt him. Just for information." The fearless leader commanded, Victor snorted._

  
_"WE tried it your way before, remember. And we walked away with jack shit. My wa…" Victor started to say when he got a face full of a fist. Summers finally snapped and got into his face, snarling at the best a human could while he said,_   
_"We aren't going to torture this man, no matter what crimes he did. After all, I'm letting you…"_   


_"Oh, yer letting me. Is'at it. You are letting me come along despite the fact that you little kids ain't able to do a decent interrogation without that redhead o' yours. Despite the fact that you kids ain't got the spin to get dirty an' do what needs to be done." Victor snarled right back, holding himself so that he appeared even larger than he already was and Victor Creed was by no means a small man._

_"Let me tell you this boy, just cause yer a few years older an' have stubble on yer chin don' mean you can throw yer weight 'round with me. Got that, an' as for how I do things. They work, got it. Yer ways don't. Simple, now stay out o' my way. Understood whelp." Victor snarled out, only the sound of a door creaking tore his attention away from the visor wearing nobody. Cursing slightly Victor walked in the direction of the door, leaving the X-Men stunned. Apparently Jimmy was being soft with the kids, should have toughened them up more than he did._

_A gunshot rang out, hitting Victor square in the chest. Victor chuckled._

_"You cherish yer humanity, don't ya. I's why you wear that monkey suit an' play the good preacher every Sunday. Tryin' to make up for your sins, eh Father?" Victor taunted as he followed the man deeper into the church's halls away from the main area and the X-Men who stood they're doing nothing. Weak._

_"Well let me tell you something. I despise my humanity as much as you seem to cherish yers. And there won't be any mercy from me." Victor purred out, knowing his words floated back to the X-Men and not caring if his words sounded in some way or form cliché or movie-worthy. He just didn't care, it was the truth. That was the only reason he said it._

It was in his nature to be cruel, to keep coming and keep hunting and keep killing. It was just how he was. Just like he could be a good brother, a protective older brother and as he was told a tad bit obsessive. But that's fine, Victor didn't care. They were brothers, and Victor was good at that role too. So long as his brother didn't betray him, which he did and Victor showed his younger sibling just how nasty he could be.

Then things went from bad to worse too horrible. Jimmy was covered by Logan; Logan was covered by Wolverine and all of them covered by Weapon X. He now had to find a way to get Jimmy out from under that pile.

Somehow…

Getting up Victor reluctantly wandered back to the elevator. He's been doing this for the past three weeks and has yet to make it through those doors. He has yet to see his only sibling face-to-face again since they captured him from that place.


	5. Chapter 5

The ride down to the lower levels was a long one, it gave Victor too much time to reflect and the sounds of the elevator didn't help get his mind off of it any even though the elevator ride was loud for him. But he heard louder. So no, he was forced to think about his current situation. Who he was. What he was. Everything. Being in such a calm place like this one, it always did it for him. Especially when he was alone, and ninety percent of the time he was. No one came near him, which was a good thing.

He wasn't a good guy, despite him being here and helping. He could see the ol' punching bag go pale with some of the fantasies he catches Victor having, broken bodies of frails of both genders. Tortured and beaten down just the way he liked it in both physical and emotional ways. Raped, Victor was an animal, and if it would get you down and broken he's been known to use some form of it on both genders. Preferred frail females though, they had a feel to them that was right. The few times he's done so to males it was solely for the psychological impact. Nothing better then taking a so-called alpha male and demoting him in every way possible before killing him. But that was the animal in Victor that drove him; he never got much gratification from it only the thought of breaking men down did it for him.

And all of that was why he was kept in sight at all times, despite his free roaming rights on the grounds. He was always watched. Not that he cared, he is man enough to put his own carnal needs aside to do what he wants to do and do what he feels needs to be done. And Jimmy was more important by a sliver, but enough of one to be more important. He'll fix his brother, he will go back to his own life and Jimmy would either follow him or they would choose some other path. Enemies most likely. They were too good at being enemies.

Snarling angrily he nearly forced the doors to open faster the second he heard the doors start to move as the elevator came to a stop. Thankfully the doors moved in a good speed, it allowed him to escape into pristine hallway. He sniffed the air, this hallway was a high traffic area and it led to three main places. The hanger. The danger room and Jimmy. Victor skipped the hanger and the danger room and walked towards the cells.

But he stopped just before entering; he couldn't bring himself to walk through those doors just yet. Weak… Can't even face yer own brother. Victor's snarled at himself inwardly. He leant with his back against the wall, the door right next to him. He could hear his brother faintly inside. Though he'd have to actually go inside the room to see for sure.

He's done this each day since they brought him here. And each day he failed to enter. Enter to see what Stryker and his screw-heads did to Jimmy. Enter to see how fallen his sibling truly was, how much he was damaged goods to society now. Jimmy would never be able to live in a general society again because of this, just like Victor can't. But for different reasons.

Jimmy was damaged goods, wounded by Weapon X and Stryker and everyone who signed up. And, and by Victor himself. This was why his brother couldn't live in society now, he could live through it or around it or in the shadow of it, but not in it. Jimmy was too old and too screwed up and, despite morals he was a killer, society wouldn't accept him. And that was without including the fact that his brother just like Victor, was a mutant.

Victor couldn't because he was an assassin, a serial killer, a rapist, a mercenary and all around bad guy. And Victor didn't really want to be anything else, why because it was fun. He was a predator, an animal. Animals kill, animals take what they need whether its food or around mating season. They just did, and Victor was an animal and he was cruel and he was unforgiving. He was what he was. And why shouldn't he embrace what he was? So society and Victor was now like oil and water, and he would keep it that way.

_"Victor, have you ever heard of the Weapon X program?" Victor heard Stryker say while Victor scanned the cages down below in question._

_"No, why should I have?" Half-mindedly he answered as he watched a young woman enter. Blond. Serious. Too serious. Victor sneered. Frails these day's thought they were all that and all important._

_"No, if you did then my security in keeping things quiet would need to come into question. I suggest we start a partnership." Stryker casually stated as he set a folder down on the desk in front of Victor while he stood next him. Victor wasn't fond of the closeness, but didn't make a move anyway._

_"What for?" Victor growled, eyeing the title on the folder. 'Project: Weapon X'. What a stupid and useless name for something that would probably be nothing but a waste of time._

_Victor hated the small smirk he saw on Stryker's face just then. But didn't say anything about it. Just waited and listened. Stryker made promises to him. Promises that he would be able to get back at his brother for just leaving like that. For leaving Victor like that when the damn no good whelp of a brother had no right!_

_"So yer tellin' me. You had a frail seduce my brother to keep an eye on him. While you and I, partners as you say, hunt down and catch little muties 'n cage 'em up. And yada yada yada. I get the adamantium after you test it on my brother an' experiment on Wade." Victor hummed slightly as he idly looked at the file uncaringly, but he refused to look at the picture of his brother. The frail was a looker, he'd love to see how she screamed and cried and pleaded and died. Pity he couldn't have his way by the looks of it._

_"Exactly." Stryker confirmed a cruel, but calm look tucked behind a veil of professionalism. Victor could respect that, to a point. So long as Stryker gave him what he wanted, then Victor would have no problems doing what he did._

_"Only if you figure out how to shut that shit up. For good. It's annoying hearing him sing off key in the showers in the middle of the night." Victor agreed, a sly sadistic grin appearing as the distant sound of nonstop talking echoed in his ears alone. But Stryker would know, the man wasn't entirely stupid._

Victor was too angry to realize the complete seriousness of that day and the days to come. But he does now, boy does he now. And a part of Victor did in fact feel something close to guilt and regret, but he always crushed that down. He was Victor Creed for crying out loud! He wasn't one to feel guilt or regret. He's murdered and tortured and raped and decimated, but he did not feel guilt or regret! That was beneath him! It was it really was!

Talking, he could hear talking. Distinct accent, but his ears couldn't quite pick it up through the thick walls and doors. He only picked up enough until he pressed a button that allowed him to hear, but not be heard. The damn elf was in there, every day that freak show delivered food. Every day he pleaded with Jimmy. Weak! Soft! Frail little elf. The elf was new that much Victor could say though he didn't seek the freak out to find out more. But he could gather that the elf wanted to make friends, and saw something in Jimmy that he wanted to be friends with. Pathetic.

Then his brother lashed out, as he always does at one thing. Sorrow. Pity. Sadness, Victor always smelt it on the blue elf between the sulfur and other scents picked up from whatever he was doing. His baby brother has yet to say a word though, and every day the punching bag tries to reach Jimmy through his mind. Every day it ends up as a failure.

Victor hated the idea of some whack-job goodie-goodie in his brother's mind. Especially after he saw him turn Jimmy off outside the base they raided.

_Victor didn't know how they did it, but they did. They cornered his brother in one of the hallways closes to the exit where the X-Jet was waiting. Thankfully. One of the most useful in this situation was close to him, already given his standing orders. Victor's claws lengthened, and wild eyes turned on him accompanied with a guttural snarl. One he never heard his brother make before, not even when he was thoroughly pissed off._

_Victor shook that thought from himself as he snarled right back. Instinct. He heard sorrow filled words from his large now metal partner. And the second a buzzing from a walkie-talkie was heard as other X-Nobodies communicated with each other, Jimmy attacked them. Naked with his claws out and gleaming with blood covering most of his brother's body and hair standing on end. A complete wild appearance._

_"Down boy." Victor sneered as the fight started._

Victor took his fair share of injuries that day, all healed well enough, but it did nothing to stop the emotions he so hated to have from assaulting him past the point his physical injuries sealed shut and mended.

_Victor barely even felt his brother's weight. Defenseless nude and undignified with all those wires hanging off of him, metal up along his spin and going directly into his brother's head. Into his very brain, Victor only knew this because he saw them while fighting and felt the metal when restraining him. He wasn't fully aware of the attention given to him instead of Jimmy. And he didn't care._

_It was hard to swallow, and too many emotions coursed through him. His own injuries forgotten and left to be dealt with when they regained importance. No, right now his main attention was on his brother who looked like Jimmy, but was wrong in so many ways. And quite frankly Victor was concerned, and it took a lot to get him concerned. Not for his mission, his safety or his gain. But for a brother he tried to help and failed, a brother who was captured and broken down to nothing._

_Victor always wanted his brother to embrace that other side, but this was pushing it. Jimmy had no mind of his own! Victor wasn't even aware that his very emotions that he always kept neatly packed away and bottled out of the way was now clearly shown for the world to see._

_Concern – for a brother he failed to protect and was now laying broken and bloody on the ground at his feet. And not by Victor's doing!_

_Horror – for what they have done to his brother, Victor could do many things. All of them horrible, but he would never truly get down to such a level as this. Not to Jimmy anyway._

_Anger – at himself for failing! He failed! He failed to do what he always boasted to being able to do! And that was to protect his brother, the only family he now acknowledged inwardly. The only family who quite frankly gave a damn about Victor._

_Bloodlust – Unrestrained and not very hidden as his claws remained elongated and his teeth bared out of rage instead of pain. Pain meant nothing to him; pain simply reminded him that he was alive to do something. He was going to make them all pay! Shed their blood in rivers! Maim their bodies until nothing more than dust is left! Erase them from the world of the living once and for all! And he can, and he will._

_All of his emotions seemed to repeat over and over again, giving him a headache to worsen his mood. Victor wasn't even aware that he took all of his brother's extra weight, or that he was whispering promises of revenge for him. Promises of being a brother again, and quite frankly Victor didn't care. He simply took his brother onto the X-Jet and let the others follow him into it. He eyed the girl with disinterest. She meant nothing to him, just hardware stolen from his brother's flesh._

The sound of footsteps, turning his head slightly he noticed it was the fearless leader himself. Victor sneered. By now a lot of time probably passed, his brother was finally quiet. His howls roars and growls of rage were now nothing more than eerie silence. Victor let go of the button and turned to face four-eyes.

"Why are you still here?" Scott demanded his voice kept neutral, but Victor heard the simmering hatred underneath of it. Righteous rage. It was a grand thing to take and break and watch as victims and frails alike crumble and lose hope because their rage did nothing. Intoxicating at the best of times.

"What no, hi how are you bullshit? Wow, that's a shocker. Usually you try 'n play nice with me. Be the good man, fix 'n let go of past grudges?" Victor taunted, a curve of his lips offered a mocking sneer and a slight show of one fang.

"Cut the attitude, Sabretooth. We both know I didn't forgive you, and I don't pretend to. But I am the leader of the X-Men and as such expectations are present for me. Something I doubt you could understand fully. Now, why are you still here?" Scott practically hissed, it was obvious to Victor that the man could barely stand being around him and that was a good way Victor managed to get under his skin. What did this punk have in him that got 'Logan' to come close to obeying? Victor would never know, Jimmy on the other hand wouldn't. Not unless this punk proved himself first.

Victor snarled lowly, his eyes flashing with rage, but he held it down. Perhaps he will visit the danger room after all to release some pent up rage. Lucky boy's getting off easy thanks to technology, now it's a pity they couldn't make the danger room bleed.

"You already know why I'm here, boy. If it ain't to yer liking, then tough cause I don't give a flyin' fuck what you think in any way." Victor snarled out and on second thought he simply added,

"It's past your bed time boyscout." He sneered angrily at the so-called leader before he stood up fully and towered over Summers enough to remind him that Victor was the bigger male here, and the stronger one. Hell he was an alpha male who knew how to take what he wanted. When he wanted and how he wanted it.


	6. Chapter 6

Colonel William Stryker knelt in front of a grave marked William Stryker Sr. Flowers left gently placed on the grave. He found himself thinking back on the stories his father told him, about his time dealing with mutants. It was those very stories as well as his experiences with the hideous abomination to humanity that fueled his willpower and steeled his commitment of purging humans of this threat. Red mutants who drop CIA agents from the sky, a mutant who created tornado's and don't forget Shaw. Stryker had files on everything, all safely tucked away and kept as his eyes only unless you were in a need to know category. And most wasn't considered in that category.

His father would be embarrassed with the latest loss of Weapon X; his father would be embarrassed with how much money went down the drain. The first test run they had with Weapon X against the unwanted X-Men and that God-Forsaken school filled with mutant nobodies during school years. That school was a mockery to good upstanding schools.

"I nearly had that psychic killed Father, the one that read your mind." Stryker murmured to the marble slab that had decorations carved into it along with dates and names. Stryker had the option of burying him with other decorated officers, but decided not to in the end.

_Weapon X received its orders, and with stealth the weapon was known for it took off towards the wall. Up and over, quick and easy. Far too easy, it helped that the power was cut so security would be all but lacking. The psychic would know the attack was coming that was for sure. And Stryker remained within a jeep that was next to the transport vehicle that was lined with a thin coat of adamantium, but that was all that was needed due to the metal's strength and that didn't even include the cage made of adamantium sitting neatly inside with scientists and soldiers that handled Weapon X daily._

_Technology was used to make them invisible to the psychic's prying mind._

_A young soldier sat in the driver seat; he was new and a bit nervous. But the young soldier was eager to please. Stryker liked it when they were eager to please._

_"How's the family Lieutenant?" Stryker asked casually, keeping an ear out for what was happening and a dog whistle in his hand ready to call Weapon X back without a moment's notice._

  
_"Um, they're great. My wife gave birth to a healthy baby boy." The young Lieutenant answered, Stryker nearly wanted to ask if he had the boy tested if he had the X-Gene or not. If he did, it wouldn't stop Stryker from dealing with that immediately. But instead he settled for a polite,_   
_"Congratulations."_   


_"Thank you sir." The young Lieutenant said, he practically beamed. Stryker remembered a time when he was just as happy and excited to hold his son in his arms. Up until he discovered that his son was an abomination just like the rest of the mutants. He loved his son, don't get him wrong. He did. But his son was dead to him the second he became a mutant._

_The clear sounds of fighting were heard even from here. Good thing Stryker had a cover up story in place already. Apparently there is a movie being made, and a good few blocks around this school was blocked off for it. Stryker smiled to himself. He was going to let this continue for a bit. Let him have his fun, run off his energy. It's the least he could do for the weapon; it was well-behaved for the last couple of days._

In the end, however, Stryker had no choice, but to call him back, and cursed Doctor Zander Rice. For it, as well as Doctor Sarah Kinney. Apparently those two were bickering like cats and dogs when it came too little X-23 who was being tended to after completing another mission, this time separate from Weapon X. They worked so well together. Frowning slightly he remembered the lectures and the punishments he dealt out to both of them. Rice was officially off the project until further notice. Kinney was forced to watch the clone go through training exercise after exercise, all of which injured and brought X-23 down to her knees. Stryker knew the best ways to get to each person.

Just like he knew how to get to the doctors who were originally a part of this whole project back when they recaptured Weapon X in Japan. It was too easy.

Weapon X returned like a good dog, and was taken back into the transportation vehicle by his handlers and soldiers. He resisted almost like he didn't want to leave, it was either that or he just didn't want to be cooped up in that cage again. He got punished for it as soon as they returned to the base; Stryker still remembers the growls and screams.

Stryker originally had the Reifying Encephalographic Monitor also known as REM on Weapon X the first time back when they recaptured him and then this time and, despite how well the REM machine worked, it didn't reconstruct Weapon X as fully as he would have liked. Sure it managed to do a lot of damage and fixing. But it was supposed to completely reduce the mind to something close to a beast-like state of consciousness – devoid of fear and doubt and desire, stripped of memory and emotion, and unfazed by personal extinction – would never waver. In its pristine purity, such a mind would experience no pain, suffer no discomfort, feel no remorse.

It didn't do that completely, Stryker knows that for a fact now. Sure it did most of that, but there was still some emotion left behind and some ability to think on some level. It was unacceptable, but there was nothing he could do now, Weapon X was freed as was X-23. They both were now in the possession of Xavier and his club of nobodies.

That left Stryker in a tough spot. One he didn't appreciate at all.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Scott Summers would freely admit that he was divided on the entire situation with Victor Creed and still a bit unsure about the situation with Logan.

True he was glad that Logan was gone, but he would have never wished what happened to the man on anyone. Logan was rude, he was an ass and he had no respect for authority not to mention he didn't seem to have the ability to simply trust anyone. And Scott was higher authority than Logan when it came to the X-Men and this school, only outdone by the Professor himself. But he was looking in Logan's files that were started when Logan first came and now, there certainly was a lot of things explaining why the man acted out the way he did. Scott understood that now, the man was suffering from PTSD to some extent and now Scott figured it was probably a big thing in Logan's personality.

The anger and the flashbacks or nightmares, irregular sleeping patterns as well as hypervigilance. Not to mention now Jean told him that when she scanned him the first time he seemed calm outwardly. Even nonchalant about it, flirting with her even. But due to her being a psychic sensed he was uncomfortable and it increased the longer they were in the lab. Scott now figures, as does everyone else for that matter that the situation was a subconscious reminder of sorts and thus reminded his body of past trauma.

Scott was only aware of all of this to his level simply because he read the files and took a few short courses in order to help him become a better leader. _A lot of good it did you if you were so willing to throw away a damaged mutant because you couldn't take his attitude or his aggression. Who knows how good he could have been on this team._ Scott thought to himself bitterly as he sat in his classroom, his motorcycle taken apart again for the purpose of cleaning it and calming his own mind down from dealing with all the stress.

He glanced up momentarily to notice Sabretooth passing his open door, and frowned. Having that man here brought back too many memories. And fear. He remembered all too well the fear he felt as he ran through the hallways from a man who kept up too easily. Scott never felt so helpless in his life. Not being able to open his eyes and feeling a man with hideous claws holding him down. He was pleading, shaking. Then, mercifully knocked out. Only to wake up in a worse off situation. He still didn't know how he escaped exactly. Just that the locks were broken and he and others escaped thanks to the Professor leading them to the exit with his mind.

Sabretooth was such a cruel man back then, and he still is. Some of the young woman he heard that were taken from their cells never came back. He could have sworn he heard them screaming. And laughter, he could have sworn he heard laughing. But that might have been his fear playing tricks on him. Sabretooth also tended to use the danger room a lot; apparently it's the only thing that keeps him occupied at the moment. But Scott knew that there will come a time that fake simulations of murders and who knows what else he's programmed into his personal simulation won't be good enough. That the need for blood will become too great to resist and the X-Men will have to deal with that.

The only good thing that came out of having Sabretooth here was the extra help in getting Logan out of that place, and Laura. Scott was extremely uncomfortable with considering her X-23, it kind of reminded him of a conversation he once heard the Professor and Magneto have not too long ago. He had to shake his head to get that thought out of his head; he couldn't let himself start thinking about that sort of thing. It would ruin his chances of achieving the Professor's and his own dream. But still, the way he saw Creed look at the people he was killing. The sadistic enjoyment was as clear as daylight to the point that even a dense child could understand and notice it. It was disgusting.

Still, maybe there was some part of Sabretooth that cared about his sibling? That could be a long shot though, Sabretooth seems pretty closed off in regards of caring about anyone. And he hasn't even faced his brother yet? What was he so afraid of when it comes to facing the situation? Scott wouldn't doubt that.

"How are you doing Scott." A calm voice caught his attention, and the sound of wheels moving along carpeted floors. Scott turned fully on his stool to face the Professor as he stopped when there were only a couple of feet between them.

"I'm fine." Scott answered almost robotically; it was a response he used most of the time. He was the leader; he decided that he had to tend to everyone else. And in doing so he had to deal with his in a quieter manner. Professor Xavier didn't approve or let him do it though.

"Honestly." Professor Xavier pushed, Scott sighed. It was obvious that he was in one of these moods. He wouldn't take a two word reply as an answer. Scott figured he needed more human contact as well, something to get his mind off of Logan down below along with Laura.

Silence for a moment, but it didn't last long as he managed to say,  
"How long will Creed actually stick around? Who knows what kind of threat he'll be when he decides to kill again." Scott really felt a need to know this.

"I don't really think it's his choice when he kills again. It's like an addiction with him that rears its ugly head. I believe it's safe to say he has chronic bloodlust, and needs to feel the glow." Professor Xavier answered calmly, hands folded on his unfeeling lap.

"The glow?" Scott asked uncomfortably, not sure if he'll like this answer if he were to get one.

"Think o' it as a fix. Quenches my bloodlust, liken it to crack to a druggie if ya want. I don' really give a fuck." Sabretooth's voice rumbled at the doorway, despite the amused smirk it didn't meet his eyes. In fact, Scott saw that he wasn't happy at all with the fact that he was being spoken about. Well too bad. Scott thought to himself and got a quick disapproval look from Professor Xavier who was now frowning in Sabretooth's direction.

"That's…" Scott started; it was a disgusting thing to say. Absolutely disgusting.

"Wha'? Sick? Who cares. You ain't makin' a big deal of all the little druggies gettin' high." Sabretooth mocked, a sneer showing off his abnormal fangs. It was proof that if the mutant in front of you actually sunk his teeth into you, you'd feel it. And Sabretooth fought dirty as it was, so Scott was sure that someone had scars of it if they survived.

"Of course I would!" Scott snapped angrily, he saw what drugs could do to someone. He wasn't born yesterday and he lives in a school, and dealt with teenager mutants who used and are using drugs as an escape. He does what he can to help them. They all do.

"Ya 'cause yer a boyscout." Sabretooth purred out, his words were dripping with enough mockery that Scott nearly started to fume more visibly than he already was.

Before Scott could snarl anything else Professor Xavier interrupted with a timely,  
"That is quite enough. Drugs and murdering people just so you can feel the thrill of it is two very separate things despite wording otherwise. And you will not succumb to that here, am I understood." Scott turned his attention to Professor Xavier the second he started to speak, wheeling around to face the large mutant at the doorway.

A chuckle was the reply Scott heard, though he was surprised that Professor Xavier still had the ability to speak firmly like that without actually raising his voice. But then again, he shouldn't be considering how things are now.

"Whatever you say, Professor. You obviously know shit loads more 'en I do." Sabretooth taunted, leaving plenty of bait to obviously mock Professor Xavier. Though Scott knew the man dealt with his fair share of taunts and baiting in his life being what he is and what he dedicated his life to.

"I will not get into one of these with you again, I have enough on my plate as it is." Professor Xavier said firmly, Scott right from a young age knew better then to fight against this tone. You never win and it had nothing to do with Professor Xavier's abilities.

"Oh, an' like what?" Sabretooth said, clearly uncaring about what Professor Xavier had to deal with currently. Scott seethed for that, how dare that mangy nobody treats the Professor like that?

"Your brother and that young lady." Professor Xavier calmly stated, his tone gone, but it was obvious now that the conversation won't go any farther. And for that Scott was glad. A fight no doubt would have been started, and that could alarm Logan downstairs and the few that remained here to help.

That seemed to end the entire conversation, if that's what you'd want to call it. He watched as Sabretooth turned icy and simply stalked off growling.


	7. Chapter 7

Three weeks, twelve hours, forty nine minutes and twenty one second's. She was told she wasn't recaptured, but she doubted that, there was no proof to prove either scenario, though that meant little to her. No what meant something to her was that there were no new mission she's required for. No new tests or doctors aside from the ones that come daily, twice a day. It wasn't normal procedure, it was unnatural. Perhaps she failed? And failure wasn't an option; it caused you to get punished. But sometimes even when she accomplishes her missions, she got punished.

She ignored the echo of stinging pain in her arms from her cutting at herself, noting the bread she placed between her cell and Weapon X's cell was untouched. Acceptable. Normal. The clock kept ticking; she could see it from where she was lying. She never had one and in the same room as her before. They didn't let her have anything aside from the clothes on her back.

Here she had a proper bed, toilet, sink and a pillow. Sleep was required, so she fell into dreamless sleep.

The sound of someone talking woke her up. Six hours, she was asleep for six hours in total. It was enough to cause her to be fully aware. She was used to less sleep when the doctors required her for testing or she was needed for training simulations and missions. Will she finally get her mission? Her mother never told her what her mission was before she died.

Frowning slightly she quickly schooled her features back to calm as she stood up. Growling and the sound of Weapon X slamming up against the bars of the cell caused one of the doctors of the faculty to back up, she detected no fear. This doctor was an obvious mutant; blue fur covered his body and blue skin where the fur didn't touch. Doctor Hank McCoy she was told his name was. She addressed herself in response as 'X-23' it was what she was called.

"My stars and garters, did I wake you?" Dr. Hank McCoy said suddenly, her attention instantly drawn to what he was saying rather than observing him in general.

"No." Was X-23's simple answer, and it was true simply because she didn't lie unless it was on a mission that required it. But mostly others took care of that for her, she just did the killing either by herself or with Weapon X.

X-23 sensed an awkward silence settle, unsure of what to do she settled on waiting for further instructions or further communication.

"That's good. That's good." Dr. Hank McCoy finally acknowledged, X-23 patiently waited for more. She didn't have to wait long until he started to talk again as he cleaned up the second mess Weapon X made,  
"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes." X-23 answered, unaccustomed to someone communicating with her in such a manner. Still, it was… nice.

"That's good…" Dr. Hank McCoy acknowledged, and true to his word she suspected that it was considered good. She did nothing to acknowledge that in anyway, not knowing how or knowing if she should. So she went for what was normal for her, missions.

"What is my mission?" X-23 asked bluntly. Missions were a way of life, she understood that much. Missions were important, they got her handlers money and power and control. And they used her to get it and that was what she was meant for. Meant? Past tense. Not important, missions were still important and she was still a weapon to be used. Just like Weapon X.

"Pardon?" Dr. Hank McCoy asked, he didn't expect her to ask for what she did. But it was necessary, they obviously were lacking in knowledge of what she was meant for. That will change though, it always does.

"My mission." X-23 clarified without much emotion, staring at him with her cool green eyes. She didn't take her eyes off of him, and watched his emotions show themselves.

He looked sad. She didn't understand why. Her life was this way because that was how it was, and she was designed for missions. Why would they take her away from that life? Was she no longer needed, if that was the case wouldn't she be disposed of? More awkward silence.

"I can see why you want to know, being that you were taken from a life you were used to." Dr. Hank McCoy slowly said, she listened cautiously. She only noted to herself that there was silence in the other cell. He continued drawing her attention back to him,  
"You're no longer at the facility, you are no longer getting missions from them."

"Why." X-23 asked, the thought confused her. Why was she not at the facility anymore? Did this have something to do with Xavier, her mother and that jet? Was that even real or another simulation cooked up to torment her? To test her? Why?

"Because this is what your mother wants for you and it might not seem like it now. This is a better chance at having a life of your own, you're only in a cell right now until we are sure that your programming won't harm yourself or others." Dr. Hank McCoy explained to her, she could tell he believed every word he spoke. And she wasn't sure how to take that.

X-23 thought that over to herself. She was stressed though that much she new. No missions. No missions. Why? What was her purpose now?

"You may not believe me now and you are no doubt confused, but things will get better Laura." Dr. Hank McCoy said his tone taking a softer tone, but he seemed slightly unsure of the name. Almost as though he wasn't sure if he should be using it, she couldn't be sure if that was the reason or not.

Laura. That was her name. The name her mother told her was hers. Then, she died without giving her a mission, died on her.

"X-23." X-23 coldly corrected, watching his every move and almost daring him to say otherwise. It was stressful, she didn't understand. She didn't understand. She didn't understand. Why couldn't she understand?

"Very well. X-23 then." Dr. Hank McCoy acknowledged, regretfully. She wasn't too sure why he was regretful for it. It was what her name was to them. To everyone. Laura was just a name her mother gave her; it didn't really make it hers. Not truly anyway. Did it?

Silence settled as the doctor finished cleaning up the mess, she remained standing. Waiting. If anything with the tilt of his head, it seemed like he was listening to something so she listened as well. She heard no one.

"X-23. Professor Xavier would like to speak with you, would that be okay if I took you to see him?" Doctor Hank McCoy said, suddenly shattering the silence and turning her attention back towards him.

She thought about anything she learnt of the name Xavier, it wasn't much. Just that he is a threat to Doctor Rice, Colonel Stryker and the other heads of the facilities. She didn't know what that meant for her, or how the few meetings with him since she was brought here added up. He always seemed genuine, kind even. But lies, those could be all lies.

"Okay." X-23 confirmed and noted the satisfied look the large blue mutant had on his face. She kept her hands to her side; it was customary to do so when she was being transferred without cuffs. And since she saw no cuffs present themselves, she would keep her hands to her side unless she had to otherwise. But she'll wait and see.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

He stopped thrashing against the bars in anger as he listened to the blue mutants talk with his clone. Sniffing the air lightly he picked up every emotion and every scent the mutant gave off, no lies. None of them. It meant nothing. The mutant could say what he wanted; it meant nothing in the end. He was only a mutant; mutant's words amounted to nothing. It was the humans who pulled the strings in Weapon X's experiences.

And he may be a weapon and an animal, but he knew enough to know that humans didn't like mutants. That's why they send him to kill mutants and sometimes humans or whoever he needs to kill. And he was good at it. The clone was young, not as experienced as he was. A child? What was a child? She wasn't, he knew that well enough. Just like he wasn't a man, he was a weapon. An animal.

Weapon X watched the mutant, handler wannabee maybe, walk X-23 away.

The sliding doors slid open, he saw a young boy walk by and pause with a girl next to him. White strip in her hair. They looked shocked, concerned. Worried?

Weapon X raged in his cell at that, he hated those emotions. Hated them. The whole thing was trashed by the time he was through, and the sliding doors were long since shut and locked. It didn't matter. It didn't matter. Panting out of mild exhaustion Weapon X scanned the room. The food that was cleaned up was now sitting on a table across the room, soiled from Weapon X refusing to eat it again and shoving it away.

In the end he resigned himself to sitting in his corner between the bed and the wall. The floor was cold, so was the wall he leant against. Didn't matter. Why should it? Weapon X kept his eyes on the door, and his senses directed that way too. He was trying to figure out what's going on beyond it. But only heard traces amount of life. Barely anything to give him a clue about when things were going to get serious.

When was he going to get sent out to kill?

When was he going to get cut into?

When was he going to be attacked, humiliated and pitted against a bear or wolves or criminals or X-23?

When?

Weapon X snarled angrily, his teeth clamped shut and only did he notice faintly the pain in his jaw from clenching his teeth so hard. It didn't matter, he wasn't aware of how to consider it important. He didn't understand that it wasn't okay to get shot at, hurt or abused. Life was this. And this was his life. He was Weapon X, and only Weapon X.

Tired. He was tired, but he didn't sleep. He fought it off the entire time he was here, only passing out when even his body couldn't take it anymore. Or he was persuaded to sleep by his keepers. They always smelt of guilt though. Always. It was angering, frustrating and annoying. Weapon X had no use for their guilt, why would he need guilt?

He didn't know how long he was sitting in his corner, starting to nod off much to his irritation and his snarls showed it. But it must have been a while now, the clock showed a different time. Unimportant. But noted. Sort of. It was only a glance; he had no use for time. And it was rarely given to him, but that didn't matter. He never paid attention to it. His attention was on either nothing or something he needed to pay attention to.

A loud thud could be heard, and the sound of something being shot. What was being shot though? He didn't recognize the weapon that made that sound. Not a gun. Not a cannon. What? An echoed roar, dulled from the walls between him and the fight. Weapon X felt his blood boil at the sound of that roar, it made him want to attack and to roar his own rage back.

He wanted to kill the one roaring, attack and tear the roaring one apart. He wanted to kill the one shooting a weapon, leave nothing but blood and body bits. Crawling forward slightly he sniffed the air, remaining crouched he looked at the door.

A scream. Pain. Weapon X snarled angrily as he settled for pacing his cage back and forth and back and forth. Like a wild animal there was no set pace to it or motion. His attention always on the door, always on the sound of fighting going on outside that door. More thuds, more shooting and more snarling and roaring. Something hit the door hard enough for it to slide open a sliver.

A red light went by; the sound of the shooting weapon went with it. A rumbling growl drew Weapon X's attention. Who? Didn't matter? Why? Unimportant. Weapon X huffed his annoyance and kept pacing, kept snarling and waited for his turn to come.

Then silence.

Weapon X found that confusing, he heard no orders or gunshots or further fighting. But everything was silent now, only the hum of machines outside that door and the flickering of a lightbulb in the room. Cautiously approaching the bars he wrapped his fingers around them uncomfortably. He couldn't tell what was going on, and he was used to not knowing anything. It didn't take away the annoyance that not knowing caused.

People moving, nothing spoken, but the two or more who were fighting were removed from the scene somehow? Maybe? Weapon X growled angrily before pushing his forehead against the bars angrily and glared at anything and everything with no target in mind.


	8. Chapter 8

Victor Creed growled lightly to himself as he prowled the hallways on the same level as his brother, better down here then dealing with moody boyscout. It must be his time of the month again, either that or his redheaded frail didn't pay enough attention to the whelp. And with the fact that he could feel it coming and scratching at his mind any either. Sabretooth or the animal whatever you want to call it, it didn't matter. Victor really didn't care, what he did care about was the thrill it did in fact give him, but he lost all control during that time. And, despite how cruel he was, it never sat too well with him. That loss of control.

And it was only through getting his satisfaction from the kill and the maiming did he get some of that control back. Even for a little bit, but it takes a lot of killing to get him completely satisfied. He found an easier way though, telepaths. Birdy was the first who introduced him to it not too long after the whole Stryker thing. The little mouthy minx managed to claw her way in somehow, and he wasn't talking about his mind. Victor couldn't say he loved her or cared for her, he wasn't capable of those sorts of emotions or at least that's what he long since believed. But he did feel possessive of the little bird, and kept her from serious harm. Or at least he tried.

She gave him something he nicknamed 'the glow'; it gave him the satisfaction he lusted after without him having to actually kill and lose control to get it. And that kept him in control.

Shaking his head he banished those thoughts from his mind, he didn't want to be reminded of his momentary weakness for a frail. She was nothing but a frail! He could see the door that led to his brother down the hall, beckoning him and mocking him. Victor growled. It opened successfully cutting Victor's growl off as he watched the blue Muppet walk the clone to the elevator and they both entered. A slight tilt of his head gave away his curiosity.

After they were gone from site Victor wandered around some more, not entirely sure how long he was down there for, but it beat having to deal with too many nobodies upstairs in either the recreation room or stuffing their disgusting mouths with food that was surprisingly very good to eat. There was no clock to check, so he couldn't be sure of how long he was wondering for. Maybe more than an hour or two at the most. He didn't know.

Sniffing the air he picked up another scent. The boyscout himself. The one he wanted to avoid though not for his own sake, but for the golden boys. Professor Wheels no doubt wouldn't want his handpicked leader being scrapped off the floor.

"What are you doing down here Creed." The emotionless voice of the little boyscout said, Victor smirked. The boy was putting up a lot of front and effort to remain neutral.

"Here to smell the roses." Victor answered with a shrug of his shoulders mildly missing his jacket slightly, but he rather it remained in his room where he won't ruin it too much. A frown marred the golden boy's features; he obviously didn't want to deal with Victor's answers.

"Funny how there's no roses down here for you to smell. So what's the real reason you're here Creed? Out with it." Scott insisted and obviously showing how glad he was for having his visor on rather than his usual sunglasses. Though Victor noticed the boy was wearing them more now that he was here living at the outdated and technologically advanced mansion. Victor liked his few large houses and mansions better. They had that clean modern look to them. And there was less scents to catch his attention even briefly.

"Was that an order? You, yer ordering me? What a laugh, kid you made my day." Victor openly belittled as he shifted feet, his goal from keeping things civil and not causing trouble drastically changed to one of provoking and starting a fight. Easing some of his needs with a fight with real flesh and getting real blood and not that simulated crap the danger room gives him.

"I'm not a kid anymore." Scott hissed out. Victor wanted to laugh, it was obvious that his presence here was enough to set the fearless leader off. How wonderful! Victor prayed for him to snap, lose control and let Victor tear him down to size.

"No? Funny how I don' believe 'at. Considerin' different ages an' all that shit." Victor purred out as he made sure to make eye contact, despite the visor showing him a faint reflection of his own eyes. It was mildly disturbing.

"If I was a kid, I wouldn't be leading this tea…" Scott pointed out angrily, but Victor didn't let him get far as he interrupted saying,

"Leading? Is 'at what you think yer doing? Well, guess this is a step up from runnin' and pleadin' like ya did when you were in school." Victor chuckled at the memory of the boy shifting underneath him, but not by much, fear held him still as he pleaded with eyes tightly shut. Fear of his own ability? Victor didn't care. And he still doesn't.

"I'm not running anymore Creed! I've stopped running a long time ago!" Scott declared loudly, his hand moving up to the visor and changed whatever setting he might have had it on.

Victor Creed actually didn't have much time to react as a red beam of sorts hit him square in the chest knocking him down the hallway and slamming him into the dead end to this hallway, to his right was the door to his brother's room. No doubt Ji-Weapon X heard this. Victor got up, ignoring the pain the hit from both the fearless leader's mutation and the hard wall that was now effectively cracked slightly.

Anger coursed through him and forced his claws to lengthen without him noticing and his fingers curled inward as he quickly got back to his feet. Anger blurred the sides of his vision giving him a tunnel vision that zeroed right on Cyclops who had a hand on his visor. Anger was clearly seen in his stance as well. But his anger could never amount to Victors.

To Sabretooths!

With a roar he charged, dropping down to all four and dimly noting the power he could feel in his own body as he propelled himself forward using both his hands and feet. Dodging attacks used by Cyclops, Sabretooth lunged at him. His leap was always a combination of his superhuman strength, reflex and agility working together, flexing and un-flexing his muscle's harder and quicker then normal humans could. Similar to a tiger's or lion's pounce.

And unfortunately for Cyclops he learnt firsthand how devastating that powerful leap was as he was knocked onto his back. Sabretooth curled his hands around his throat and started to increase the pressure. When Cyclops didn't panic Sabretooth let go. It was an illusion of backing off. But instead he felt piercing pain in his shoulder dragging down to his collarbone.

He screamed. And Sabretooth practically purred out the pleasure of hearing such a pain filled sound. He knew right from day one this runt of a nobody was a screamer.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Scott struggled angrily and the pain he was being put into only increased his anger and his hatred towards this animal that was enjoying himself. Scott couldn't reach his visor so he couldn't do anything about it and all of his training to get out of this kind of situation flew out the window as he panicked while claws literally cut into his body in deliberate methods.

"Get. Off. Of. Me." Scott hissed out angrily as he managed to knee the animal in the back while kicking at the ground in helpless anger. More pain as claws dragged four parallel lines in his shoulder and a hand closed around his throat. He could feel those claws puncturing small holes into his skin on his neck. He glared angrily, though the effect was cut off by the visor.

"No." He heard Sabretooth taunt, and for the first time he noticed how uncontrolled the feral mutant actually was at the moment. How could the Professor simply let this insane creature into this mansion! How could he do that! Scott felt mildly betrayed; he himself wouldn't let someone who could lose themselves so easily in the mansion. He swore Sabretooth was losing control easier than Logan ever could. And that was saying something there.

It was getting hard to breathe! Panic set in even worse as he struggled against that hand and it's unforgiving grip. He didn't know how long he was held, it felt like hours and it was getting hard to focus on anything, but the sheer need for air.

'Enough.' A voice in his head rang out, and from the sudden slack in the grip on his throat Sabretooth must have heard it too. The Professor. Took him long enough! Metallic arms wrapped around Sabretooth's midsection and literally lifted him off of him. Scott rolled to his side and gasped for air in desperate need, holding his own no doubt bruised throat. Soft hands touching him, Jean!

The faint sound of something driving along the ground caught his attention. He spotted the Professor and he rarely saw such a stony look on his face as he regarded the situation. He wasn't happy, and Scott felt like a kid again in his shame of disappointing the one man who took him in and rebuilt his confidence and allowed him to heal emotionally from what happened.

Not that he had long to think about that, he ended up passing out not too long after that.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles spent at least an hour and a half talking to Laura, letting her read the letter and feeling her mind to know what exactly was sinking in and what wasn't. She was severely confused, but not fighting what she read and what he said to her. It was an extremely good sign; there was hope that she could reclaim the rest of her life yet.

However, any good he was having was quickly disappearing from what he was sensing from both Scott and Victor Creed. He had to leave Laura with Hank who sat next to her and with the intelligent patience the man was gifted with he will tend to her. Charles quickly made it to the first elevator, thanking his chairs motor ability and his capability of using it with experience.

He wasn't impressed with the scene he came onto, and the bloodlust he was feeling from Victor was enough to send a shiver down his spine and disgust to settle in his stomach. He could sense the reactions this was bringing out of Weapon X. At this rate there would be no hope for the wounded man in the cell. He could feel the conflicting emotions underneath the panic in Scott and that concerned him. He knew bringing Victor on board would provoke a situation like this, but even he didn't expect it to be this bad.

Even before he was next to them he used his ability to cut through everything going on in their minds, or the lack of activity due to bloodlust. Jean quickly joined his side, her telepathy allowing her to sense what was happening and Peter being the young man he was, quickly followed Jean. Fifteen minutes it took them to completely calm the situation down without a word being spoken and Jean used her telekinetic ability to float an injured and unconscious Scott away. Charles made a note to speak with him later. In order to get past the distrust brewing and the sense of betrayal that stung the man, Charles relented to the conclusion that he might have to explain a few more things to him.

But for now, Victor Creed who is struggling against the grip around his midsection with irritated snarls.

"Let him go Peter." Charles commanded, and Peter did what he asked though he looked like he wasn't quite in agreement and kept himself in his more metallic form so he could interfere again should he be needed. He knew better though to fight against Charles when he gave a command.

Nothing was said, but Victor glared at him defiantly. Such a child in such an old and brutally powerful body. But given the man's life, it did explain some of why he had more childish traits than most adults. And that wasn't a good thing in this case given the intelligence and volatile nature of one Victor Creed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Charles demanded, and he expected an answer and the defiance he saw in Victor seemed to escalate. But it has yet to show itself in action. Just through glares and dirty looks. The man really didn't take authority well.

"He started it…" Victor snarled out, arms crossed angrily. Charles took that as a sign of insecurity, the man didn't like being talked down to in a disciplinary sort of way. Did he have bad relations to adults in his childhood?

"I don't particularly care who started what. But you, you should not have let yourself lose control like that." Charles replied coldly. Thinking on when the last time he got his 'glow' was. Not for a week. Did he really need the glow that often? Perhaps this could work to his favor and in the end Victor's favor as well. Who knows, maybe he could use the glow to wean Victor Creed off of his bloodlust.

Charles watched Victor's lip curl, but nothing was said though it was noted that the feral mutant in front of him wasn't exactly disputing what he said, but Victor wasn't agreeing either. Charles sighed; apparently stubbornness ran in the family.

"How long has your unfortunate urges been bothering you?" Charles asked, trying a different route with the man. Charles nearly felt himself shiver at the cold calculating gaze he was pinned in. Victor Creed was no fool.

After a good fifteen minutes of regarding each other, Victor seemed to cave first by answering bluntly,  
"Since yesterday." And Charles received a challenging look along with that blunt answer.

"Then why didn't you come to me." Charles asked, mildly disappointed in Victor. But he understood why the man didn't come to rely on him. Victor didn't rely on anyone easily and the one person he used to rely on no longer remembered him and barely remembers what it is to be a man rather than a weapon designed to do one thing only. Kill.

"An' do wha'? Please sir, give me the glow so I don't do something I don' want to do?" Victor taunted cruelly, arms crossed still as he continued in a colder tone,  
"Please, give me a fuckin' break cue-ball. I didn' ask for the glow cause I ain't going to come beg for it an' that something I don' want to do is in fact something I love to do. So spare me. I'm only here for my own reasons. And it ain't for you or your little pin-up mutants."

Charles frowned angrily and sensed the increasing agitation from Victor Creed. Pin-up mutants, he had to admit that was a new one. But it fits unfortunately. Charles used his X-Men to both protect a world that feared them and to show the world on a mass scale that not all mutants were to be feared.

"First of all, you never have to beg me for it. I offered it to you when you first started to assist us in shared goals. And I'm fully aware of why you're here, and despite the bravo behavior, you're here to help someone just the same as I. So your reasons are mine at this point. That no doubt would change in the coming future, but for now don't fool yourself and certainly don't try to fool me. After all, fooling a psychic as powerful as I am is very foolish." Charles calmly said, not giving in to practically spit those words right back at him. When he was younger he probably would have, after a few drinks of course. But he was older now, and far less foolish and not as willing to jump blindly with hope.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Scott woke up he could already tell that it has been a few hours, he could hear the signs of it more clearly now that there wasn't too many people within the mansion's walls and he was well aware of evening rituals Ororo and Jean tend to without fail. Though the realizations that whatever plans he had would have to be dealt with tomorrow came quickly causing a brief flare of irritation to nearly take hold.

Briefly he wondered how the children that normally would be living at the school now are doing. Moira is a good person from what he learnt when he met her some time ago when he was still a teenager. She once told him she used to be in the CIA, but quit for reasons she didn't share too freely. Scott didn't push though.

The sound of a glass being put down on his bedside table caught his attention. He felt his sunglasses were on and the light was turned on causing brief blindness, despite the fact that he was wearing sunglasses. He didn't understand why Jean wanted bright lights in the first place.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to wake up, but I shouldn't be." He heard the Professor say, and Scott frowned. He would have rather had Jean here with him rather than the Professor right now, not after the sense of betrayal he felt because of this man. Scott didn't say anything as he sat up and found that his throat was sore. He didn't ask for anything for it though and he knew full well why his throat hurt.

"Why are you letting someone like him here? He's everything the X-Men aspire not to be. Everything I stand against." Scott bluntly asked after a good five minutes passed, eyeing Professor Xavier impatiently through his tinted glasses. It bothered him sometimes not being able to see like everyone else, but he adapted. He always adapted.

"As you can see, we are stretched a bit thin. We need the help, Logan needs the help. And Victor is one of the most likely to be able to help him…" Scott heard the Professor start to say, but for once he couldn't let himself let the Professor finish what he said. The thought of that animal being one of them made his stomach churn. The thought of that animal helping them, Logan included, wasn't settling well with him.

"Because they're brothers. I know. I was there when that son of… When Victor informed us of who Logan actually was. Who he was to Logan. But why is he still here. Logan was rescued from that place, so then why?" Scott impatiently snapped as he shifted on the bed until his feet touched the ground. It was chilly, but the cold was a welcomed contrast at the moment.

Silence and it was times like this that he hated how piercing the Professor's eyes can be when he's turned his attention fully onto you. Which it seldom was, he was a psychic in a school filled with children usually. And the Professor had a habit of keeping tabs on everything without having to read their minds, but using his ability nonetheless. So there was the rare time that he wasn't paying attention to you when you were in the same room as him. He was after all, only human. More or less.

"Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance Scott?" Professor Xavier calmly asked, Scott noted his hands to be folded on his lap while Scott was regarded. He hated that the Professor had the audacity to ask such a question!

"Yes, but…" Scott started, a protest stopped prematurely by a calm rhetorical question,  
"Everyone?" They both knew the answer, but Scott knew that he would have to voice it. Inwardly he cursed the man, and cursed Sabretooth or Victor. Whatever he was to be called. It made no difference to Scott.

"Sure. Sabretooth never showed signs of wanting to change, he's the one who locked me up on that island. He's the one who tormented other mutants there! So why is he here, and it's not simply because of your belief in second chances." Scott said, holding on to his side of this discussion. If the Professor was there, then he would have understood better. If Sabretooth took someone who the Professor loved, he would understand. But the Professor didn't.

"In fact Scott, it is. We went through this, more than once. Think of him as an addict of sorts. I'm simply trying to help him get better. Not to mention there are so many parts of his personality that's fragmented and not matured as yours or mine. But he also didn't have the same upbringing we did." Professor Xavier calmly explained, he too was keeping to his side and just as stubbornly as Scott was.

"And that's an excuse?" Scott found himself demanding, his emotions have long since gotten the better of him. If they hadn't he would be having a civil, but understanding conversation with the Professor rather than a mild debate.

"No. But it's the start of an explanation. Even Logan had a better upbringing for the first eleven years of his life, from the brief glimpses I caught from Victor. Which is probably why he was the... Which is probably why he was more suited for being an X-Man despite how damaged he is." Professor Xavier calmly explained, though Scott caught the rare inconsistency Professor Xavier barely makes. He was going to act on it. What was the Professor going to say originally?

"Why he was the, what Professor? You started to say something. Does this have anything to do with the current situation or what?" Scott pushed, determination setting in. He wanted to know what Professor Xavier was keeping from him. And he knew enough to know that whatever he was going to say didn't have to do with Sabretooth, but Logan. He wasn't a leader for nothing, and he had a sharp mind when needed.

More silence, Scott was starting to hate these brief silent pauses between them.

"Do you remember when you escaped? How the locks were undone on all of the cages at once. None of you spoke of it, fear and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome possibly being the reason why. Do you remember what you heard during that time?" Professor Xavier calmly started, stopping only to wait for Scott's answer.

"Slicing, metal on metal I think. Why?" Scott answered, at least once a week now he thinks back to that time. In the early days he used to think about it at least once a day. He's getting better.

"Logan used his claws and sliced the locks on the cages, unlocking every cage at once before moving onto another enemy. That is when I believe the first hit to his memory took place…" Professor Xavier calmly stated though Scott didn't hear the rest of what he had to say as he couldn't get past the fact that apparently it was Logan who saved him and the rest of the mutants caged up like animals.

He didn't even hear Hank enter quietly and a brief conversation or report being said. He didn't care at the moment; in fact all he could think or try to put together what happened that day and the brief words spoke about it. They mentioned metal knives or claws. But he didn't think anything of it; after all he didn't see it for himself. He only heard.

And now according to what the Professor said, Scott had to come to the realization that it was that same unruly man who tried to kill him shortly before he left was the one who freed him and the other mutants. It was a shock to say the least, how could he come to terms with that? After all the animosity that seemed to form between them? After he told the Professor that, he was glad that Logan was gone. How could he come to terms with all the conflictions going on when it came to one man?

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles wasn't entirely sure if he did the right thing by informing Scott, but the man had a desperate need to know, one Charles barely kept from creeping up in the younger man whose head was now resting in his hands. And even doing that was in the grey area. Hank ended up coming by briefly informing him that they set Laura up in a room of her own. Supervised of course. And they were ready to track her down if she tried anything. They were taking a big risk by letting her sleep in a room, but how will they know if she could be rehabilitated if they didn't take a few risks within sensible means.

"Scott." Charles said, trying to get the man's attention. Frowning slightly he reached out and put a hand on Scott's knee, a further attempt to get the man's attention only to have him pull away angrily. Charles sighed to himself and simply folded his hands in his lap again; he reached out with his mind to check on Laura to see if she was okay. She was confused, but other than that she wasn't doing too badly. He could sense a great deal of caution and an underline concern for Logan. How that came about Charles didn't know, but somehow the young girl became attached to the unruly man even when he was less than a man due to tampering and torture.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner!" Scott demanded, it drew Charles's attention from Laura to Scott again. He could sense a lot of anger, but that was to be expected. Before he could say anything though Scott continued,

"Didn't you think that I would need to know something like that! That every one of us needed to know how we got out of there! Why didn't you tell me when Logan was first brought aboard and why didn't you tell him that you knew more than what you let on?"

They were all good questions; there was no doubt about that. And Charles was briefly surprised that Scott was unknowingly or knowingly standing up for Logan as well. How people change after a little bit of information is given. He was right when he chose Scott to be the leader of the X-Men, and now Charles unfortunately had clean up work to do and he had to pacify Scott in this subject.

"Logan wasn't ready to know and his mind is fragile enough as it is, and neither were you. Scott, I never told you because I knew how it would have affected you emotionally. Why would I jeopardize your chances of healing by informing you about something so drastic like that? I had to look out for the two of you." Charles explained, pleading entered his voice in order to get Scott to understand what Charles was trying to say. He could tell Scott was going to protest some more, sensed it coming even before his mouth opened and before Charles interrupted with a calm,  
"I had to look out for the two of you. I know now that I did it in the wrong way. But I had good intentions in doing it…" Charles was cut off by a bitter chuckle as Scott got up and headed towards the door.

"Scott?" Charles called out with concern tinting the edges of his voice. He noticed that Scott stopped at the sound of his voice, or it was because he was at the door already. One or the other, but stopped nonetheless.

"You know Professor… The road to hell was paved with good intentions…" Scott practically hissed over his shoulder and stormed out of his own room leaving Charles alone and contemplating. He had to fix this. Somehow.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Victor found himself in front of the door. Doubt settled in his gut, but he came to the conclusion that he had to do this. He had to meet his brother face-to-face. He had to see for himself how far down his brother has fallen in a situation that didn't have so much blood or chaos. He had to see. He had to know. But going further wasn't as easy as Victor would have hoped for it to be.

And he couldn't make himself budge or move his arms from his side in order to push a simple button to open the door. Snarling to himself he cursed his own weakness and lack of ability to simply go in there and take a look for himself. But then again, when he gets in there what will he do? What could he do? Would his brother even recognize him? He doubted that he would, but there was a little bit of hope in Victor. And he hated that, hated that it felt far too human for his liking. Snarling again he shifted uncomfortably where he stood in front of a rather oppressive door.

_You got to be hard now…_

_Hard?_ Victor scoffed at his own memory, hard his ass. Being here wasn't him being hard, and Jimmy certainly was never hard when it came to some things. The fool had to do something so utterly stupid. He had to care! Victor wasn't too fond of that, but his brother was always weak in that way. And now so was Victor, when it came to his sibling. After all someone who was hard, would have no problem walking through those doors and dealing with shit rather than running away from a door and facing someone with your tail between your legs.

"Pathetic…" Victor snarled at himself. And for the next ten minutes he stood there until he finally worked up the nerve and walked into the room that held the two cells. One was empty and the other had his brother.


	10. Chapter 10

Victor didn't know what to expect or to see when he walked into a lightly lit room with two spotless cages next to each other. A wall separated the two; neither occupant would have been able to see each other. A simple desk was against the wall opposite to the cages with a simple chair that looked well-worn. The air was stale; the only way to get closer to fresh air was either through the door or the vents connecting this room's air supply to every other room. Victor wouldn't be surprised if the air in this room is recycled air somehow.

Only one cage was occupied. Only one.

Victor looked into the empty one first, not quite ready to look at his sibling yet. Not yet, but he will soon. He noted that the scent of the girl was fading, but still present. It was clean and had the appearance of hospitality in a cage. There was a bed, a toilet and a sink. All small, all clean and all very usable. More than what Victor ever got when he was stuck in a cage. Usually there was chains involved and other things that were too numerous to mention. Needlessly said, it wasn't pleasant.

Victor finally turned his attention to his sibling, the amnesiac fool who somehow got so broken down, he lost himself. How could he do that? How could Jimmy let those backward sons of bitches twist his mind around and take everything that is Jimmy and make him into Wolverine and then this thing in front of him! How could Victor? Victor felt a snarl curl up in his throat; he swallowed it before it could even be vocalized. No need to set off Weapon X prematurely.

He was told that he had to address him as Weapon X within the first week of bringing him here. Apparently Weapon X didn't respond to anything else. Victor remembered the conversation he had with Professor Xavier on it, just after he got the glow.

_Victor felt his mind finally be at peace, something he gets after he gets his glow. It won't last though, it will never last. But right now, he was content with just basking in it. But not for long, he had matters that needed to be discussed with old baldy._

_"About your brother no doubt. Hank has long since been finished with removing the technology that was connected to him. The spine graph they had on him that went right up into his brain as well as other wires did was the hardest. It was wrapped delicately around his very spine." The old baldy said, catching Victor's attention fully and chasing away the afterglow of his glow. Victor would have snorted at that if not for the dire situation at hand._

_"But all that shit's off of him." Victor said, wanting confirmation._

_"Yes… However, there is more damage then we expected…" Professor Xavier started. However, Victor was never one to let you finish a sentence when he wanted to know something or say something in general._

_"What the fuck do you mean?" Victor demanded, and gave a pointed look that told the damn baldy that he best be answering quickly._

  
_"Not in a physical sense Victor, in an emotional sense. He's psychologically damaged, his mind is fragile and he's very detached and aggressive. Hank also figures he has PTSD in a level he's not yet seen…" Professor Xavier explained. Victor listened almost detachedly, he understood exactly what was being said, but he couldn't stop himself from asking,_   
_"What does that mean."_   


  
_"It means, we have a lot of work to rehabilitate him. And unfortunately he's not making that easy." Professor Xavier calmly explained. Victor's lip curled slightly, but he didn't react to it. Simply acknowledged with an emotionless,_   
_"That sounds like him…"_   


_"That it does… He's refusing to acknowledge his names however. And we've tried every one we know of. We had no choice but to settle on calling him Weapon X unfortunately…" Professor Xavier acknowledged, but continued before the conversation was veered away from._

_"That ain't his fuckin' name Baldy… Why the hell is he not letting us call him by a fuckin' name." Victor snarled out, why wasn't Jimmy letting himself be called his proper names?_

_"Calm down Victor, you're all over the place right now. And no doubt you will stress yourself, you're unfortunately unaccustomed to dealing with situations like this." Professor Xavier said. Victor literally snarled out loud at that. But who was he to deny that? He wasn't usually found in situations like this one. And he surely didn't act this way either!_

_"No, yer right. I'm the one who causes these situations." Victor sneered as he leaned towards the damn baldy, mildly pleased by the unconscious flinch and obvious frown of disapproval._

It was not a good day when that conversation happened, and there was a lot of property damage to show for it. A growl caught his attention and Victor watched the one growling at him with slight disinterest. He really didn't know what he would expect when meeting 'Weapon X' face-to-face under different circumstances. But this wasn't what he expected. There was no blood, aside from the little bit spilt in the cage from self inflicted injuries or careless actions. Either or, it wasn't done by anyone other than Weapon X himself. But it wasn't enough for Victor to scoff.

What he saw in the cage wasn't some wild savage with wires and other Frankenstein tools hanging off of him. It was a perfect image of what his sibling looked like, sure the hair was longer and more untamed looking and his eyes didn't hold anything close to human in them. No affection. No recognition. No regrets or troubled expressions. Nothing familiar. Nothing normal. Victor saw that they managed to keep him dressed, mostly. Apparently Weapon X didn't take kindly to confining clothing.

He was feral…

Victor couldn't remember a time when things got that bad for them. The growling increased in volume and 'Weapon X' hunched his shoulders in an obvious challenging manner. Victor felt the nearly overpowering need to do the same, meet posturing with posturing and claw for claw. But he swallowed that too, he wasn't here for round two with 'Weapon X'. He was here for something. He didn't know, but it was an overpowering need that dragged him into this room and standing in the middle of it staring at the only occupant in one of the cages.

Victor almost thought in a childish manner that he should say something. Hi or something. Victor shoved that away, it was stupid. Why would he talk to someone who obviously won't answer back? He'd get no decent conversation here.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X stood still within his cage, growling the second the newcomer started to stare at him with expressions Weapon X couldn't place, but he didn't like being stared at. He stood in the center of his cage and watched the newcomer as the newcomer watched him back, a scent he faintly recognizes from someplace. This was also the man who captured him; he could do what Weapon X did! And worse, he wasn't chained up or caged like Weapon X was. So then, what did that even mean? What did it mean!

Tilting his head up slightly he took a deep whiff of the air, taking in the scent of this newcomer. The newcomer smelt like him! Like him! Why did this newcomer, this handler, smell like him? Why? How? Who? He picked up other scents on the man, scents of this place. No smells of chemicals though, not the kinds they like to use on Weapon X.

Weapon X's lip curled angrily. His claws itched to come out, but he kept them in somehow. He just did.

"Heard ya ain't talkin'." The newcomer said his voice was odd almost like he was uncomfortable or something along that line. Weapon X wasn't entirely sure; these sorts of things weren't his area. He was just here for one reason. To kill and to hunt and to slaughter, he was a weapon and he was an animal so everything else other than doing what he was intended for was pointless. Useless.

Weapon X said nothing, just kept watching the man who seemed to get more and more restless. Why? Weapon X was starting to think that he was shipped off to some faculty with a bunch of spineless nobodies, was this a place where they scent failures? Did he fail at something? Was it because he started to do what he was built to do, kill everything? For freedom or for the sake of killing them? Was there a difference?

A growl from the newcomer, agitated growl. Weapon X snarled back. That only seemed to agitate the newcomer who started to pace back and forth. Here, Weapon X thought he was the caged animal. The way the man was moving made it seem like he was the caged animal in this room. Odd. The man was growling and snarling it took Weapon X less than a minute to figure out that it wasn't directed at him, but at the man himself. He was growling and snarling at himself. Odd.

Weapon X scented the air again, seeing if there was anything that would explain the abnormality. If there was something wrong, then why wasn't he feeling the affects as well? Or was this a test? Another test! Weapon X snarled angrily.

"Why the fuck did you let them do this shit to you! Why?" The man snarled, and this time Weapon X knew it was at him. Weapon X couldn't really fathom the question, he knew the words, but strung together and in that manner, the meaning wasn't as clear or meaningful at this point.

The man seemed to be breathing heavy as he paced angrily back and forth, hands touching the top of the newcomers head. Weapon X watched him warily, but ready to spring into action, somehow.

"You ain't suppose to be this, this thing. You ain't suppose to be so fragile minded or shit like that! You… Fuck!" The newcomer continued, snarling entered his words and hands were dropped to the side, fists. Blood. Weapon X watched detachedly as blood dripped from between the man's fingers and to the ground. Those claws caused him to bleed like that. Why does he hurt himself? Was it like how X-23 hurt herself constantly?

Weapon X felt something, unsettled maybe. Disturbed? Hurt? Weapon X growled angrily, his claws sprung to life. Why was this man yelling at him? Sure it was normal when people are upset, they take it out on Weapon X, but he never understood why. And he feels even more confused at why this man was yelling at him and they didn't even meet before the recapture and why was he blaming something on Weapon X?

"Don't fuckin' growl at me! You're the one who didn't fuckin' fight them good enough, long enough, hard enough! Why the fuck didn't you fight them off longer you piece of rat shit!" The newcomer snarled at him, Weapon X growled back. The man spewed out other words, curses Weapon X figured. But nothing else was said or yelled. And the man seemed to slump down in the chair across from him and stared at the wall to Weapon X's left.

From here he could hear metal being scratched, and when Weapon X took a look at what was happening he could see deep grooves in the table. Blood smeared on the table and on the man's hands.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Victor felt himself vibrating in so many damn emotions as he sat defeated in a chair. Why did he have to lose control like that, say those things to a brother who doesn't know him and doesn't know the difference between weapon and man? It was pathetic! It didn't even make sense what he said, and it wasn't like Weapon X would understand him. Victor hated how human this made him feel, how vulnerable.

Slowly the growling and the snarling in the cage died down, Weapon X took up pacing and watching him. Victor ignored him, why should he pay attention to some retarded moron who doesn't even know how to say sorry or its okay or whatever. Victor didn't want to care, didn't want to be here anymore, but couldn't bring himself to move from this chair.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't!

 _Why couldn't you be like me Jimmy? Why did you have to go down the route of being the good guy? And being the so-called best, it got you noticed and it got you targeted. At least if you were like me, I could o' protected you better. You wouldn' o' been targeted half as much…_ Victor thought to himself bitterly as he sat there listening to the ticking of the clock and the sounds the lightbulbs make and the air vents. It was all he could do.

Victor could smell his own blood, it was something that always caused him to get agitated, but right now he couldn't be bothered. Why couldn't that old psychic fix things, why the hell did he have to take things so god damn slow? Victor was only half aware that Weapon X crouched in a corner of the cage and watched him cautiously. Victor didn't move. Not even when he felt the need to go to the bathroom, eat or sleep.

He sat there for a good twelve hours until the blue elf teleported in to deliver breakfast and caused Weapon X to get agitated again.

"Mein Gott…" The blue elf said in shock and surprise. Obviously no one expected to see Victor Creed sitting guard in a room with two cages and one occupant. Nor did they expect to see the state Victor Creed was in, or more correctly his pants and the chair and floor. All from refusing to move. Victor cursed at his own lack of ambition to move or to tend to his own physical needs. How embarrassing, how disgraceful!

If that elf says a damn word, Victor would gut him like a fish. The last thing he needed was to give the so-called fearless leader ammo to use against him. He didn't care about the mess he left behind as he stormed out of the room. Feeling like he failed and the shame for letting himself slip into such a disgusting state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the ending with Victor probably won't fit in most people's minds sad to say. But for me it fit because of his distracted state and not really caring much about anything. After all, think about it. How many times when he was a child when he was stressed out to the max do you think he might have had accidents? I've always viewed Victor as having a bit of that damaged child who was in many ways sadly incomplete in him.


	11. Chapter 11

It was safe to say that Victor was not proud of his lack of tending to his own needs; it was very unlike him and not natural. Since the first war he fought in, Victor found time to tend to his own needs, on hunts and missions he found time for his own needs. Yet, sitting in a room with two cages for twelve hours he couldn't bring himself to tend to his own needs and because of that he was left showering a mess he was downright ashamed of making. And smelling his own mess and his own shame only got him angry. It was pathetic! It was something that shouldn't have happened at all!

Snarling angrily he crossed his arms angrily and simply stood under the hot spray of his shower ignoring everything else and willing the soft footsteps outside his door from the elf away. Eventually they the sound of footsteps could be heard walking away, but only after a good five minutes of indecision and hesitation. Pathetic. He was clean now, and was thankful for that. He won't screw up like that again. Not again. Just like he lost all control and killed that hippie family, ate that hippie family. Well parts of the hippie's and unfortunately that included the infant.

He could hear a new voice down the hall. And instantly he recognized it as the clones. How come she could wander around and Jimmy couldn't?

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

As soon as her conversation with the Professor of this building was finished, Doctor Hank McCoy took her to a room claiming it to be her very own room. X-23 found herself still sitting in that room she never expected to be able to sit in on her own whim and her own choice, but it was hers.

She usually stayed within a holding cell that was white from the ceiling to the floor. Benches that doubled as beds were her only source of comfort. She knew that she had better living quarters than Weapon X did though, but he fought them harder than she did. She grew up this way, it was normal. Weapon X obviously didn't understand that, despite the fact that he is what she's cloned from. It was confusing to say the least. And she didn't handle confusion well, but then again she didn't handle emotions very well at all.

Sitting in front of her on the floor and unfolded was the letter. The letter her mother wrote her by hand. All meant for her. X-23 didn't even question whether or not it's a fake. She could smell her mother's scent on it

_"Please forgive me. Even as I write the words, they ring so hollow. My mistakes… No, my choices… They cannot be undone, much less forgiven. How all this came to pass… And the truth about Weapon X. Had it ended there, would I be less a monster? Or more? Would I even know the difference? Of course I don't have to tell you about monsters. Your life is defined by monsters…"_

Please forgive me; those words kept catching her attention when her gaze fell onto the letters for the five hundredth time since they were handed to her to read for her first time. Her mother, her mother's words were pleading with her to forgive her. The letter spoke of her life up to the point where she was given one more order. One more mission.

To kill again.

She killed other little clones tucked away in small containers and she knew they would have grown to be her. To be Weapon X's clones an army of living weapons. A small perhaps soon to be dead voice whispered to her how wrong it was. How wrong it was for her to be like that. But she couldn't link that with anything, so she didn't act on it. She was so confused.

Down the hall she could hear talking, woman. Adults. Laughing? X-23 tilted her head slightly and listened, sulfur met the air suddenly down the hall with a popping sound. Laughing stopped. She turned her attention away from them. The security here was lax; she could escape at any moment she chooses to. Would they stop her? Yes? No? She didn't know, but she had to assume they would. With the technology they had within this place told her how prepared they were for situations.

Down below this floor she was on, was Weapon X. Why was he still down there and she up here? Closing her eyes she could still remember times with him and times with a hologram of him. The hologram she wanted to hold his hand, she even reached out and let her hand hover within the hologram of his hand. She saw it in the book her mother read to her many times. Even though it was only a hologram she still reached out. Why?

One of the times they finished a mission, they were left alone for a good fifteen minutes, but by then they were both exhausted from constantly being shot and stabbed and beaten by anything not bolted to the ground. Everyone was slaughtered and they successfully carried it out. She was eight months younger than she is now. She was twelve. Weapon X's DNA was kept from his escape a little over fifteen years ago.

_X-23 was not familiar with what to do when a mission was completed and no one was actually there to pick her up, and to further put her out of her element she wasn't alone this mission. Crouched four feet away from her position was Weapon X himself, there were more controlling devices on him then on her. She was well trained, he was controlled. There was a rather nasty looking hook stuck in her side, she couldn't get it out without damaging herself further and in enemies territory it wasn't too good to do. They will do that when taking it out at the faculty most likely. So there wasn't anything to worry about._

_The scent of death was about the only thing she could smell now. She had to use her eyes and her ears. Feeling a light touch to the hook buried in her side caught her attention and she found herself looking up into the red glass of the helmet Weapon X wore during exercises or missions. She noted there was no expression on his face if the fact that his lips remained in a straight line and not frowning or smiling was anything to go by._

**_Snikt_ **

_She didn't flinch or anything when she heard that sound, others would though. That was the sound of trouble coming your way, despite being nothing more than a clone and a weapon she knew that to be fact._

_A quick slice of one end of the hook was all that those claws cut away though, and just like that they were gone. Weapon X pulled the hook out, more care than she expected from anybody and unceremoniously dropped to the bloody floor. She kept staring up at him, but his attention was drawn towards the large hanger doors as they started to slide open. She turned her attention there as well. Their ride was there._

That was the only time she could remember a moment like that with Weapon X and she knew he probably suffered for it later on if the loud growls and rare scream was any proof at all. The helmet records everything he sees. And with it they controlled everything Weapon X was to do or doing, or at least it was supposed to. They failed to completely control him.

Was that a good thing? X-23 didn't know, she couldn't understand completely. Everything here was so different then what she was used to back at the faculties. Different rules. Different beliefs. People weren't being hurt, killed or cut open. It was weird.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Stryker was beyond angry; he was being stonewalled because of the loss of Weapon X and X-23. In the rational part of his mind, he could understand why, but it was without saying that he wasn't the most rational person in the world anymore. Perhaps he was back when Team X was still under his thumb, but after embarrassment and failures he wasn't so reasonable.

He will have to figure out a way to get either Weapon X back or both. And he will have to figure out how to do it without Government funding; he will make them see that they should have given him more money and backing in this. Perhaps he will send Weapon X to their houses. Folding his hands on the desk just before the folders with a few people that might be handy to use.

One of them was going to be tricky because of his abilities because of him being a mutant. This mutant had superhuman strength, speed, stamina, durability, agility and reflexes. Also, with the deadly bonus of the ability to secrete pheromones from his body that result in the weakness or death of normal humans in his immediate vicinity. It would be fatal to Stryker especially if he didn't have what this guy would want. And that wasn't an easy thing to do. He had the designs of what the man needed in the folder and believed that he could rebuild it.

Within the other folder was an old Team X member known now as none other than Deadpool. But dealing with him was like dealing with a horrible skin rash mixed with an ear ache on top of a migraine. It wasn't pleasant, so he really wasn't looking forward to even considering picking up the phone number and phoning this guy. What was he thinking, listing his name and address in the phonebook anyway! The guy was completely off his rocker to say the least.

The third folder was someone with abilities just like Weapon X, and from what Stryker gathered in the few conversations that didn't have him either being drugged by pheromones or nearly killed, this individual was the bastard son of Wolverine and a Japanese girl the boy didn't mention. Stryker doubted he will use this one either though. Too many unexplained things about the boy who if the truth was said was close to around sixty years old.

Stryker scanned the three folders to three psychopaths with dread. The third one probably won't be as bad as long as Stryker manages to keep the sixty year old interested, and if Weapon X was involved he probably would be. But like he figured before, too many unexplained things involved for Stryker to use him. After all, if he was born when he said he was born and if his mother died at birth or was she murdered. How did the sixty year old come into another family's care and why does he hate Weapon X so much? The sixty year old worked for himself, and did what he wanted without asking anyone.

Deadpool was just plainly a bad idea because he didn't want a guy who on one occasion tried to put a dog collar on Weapon X when he was Logan and a cat collar on Victor Creed. Who glued Agent Zero's clothing to the wall in rather disgusting positions and dyed Bradley's underwear pink. Vandalized Stryker's desk just because nothing good was on the television and he didn't want to watch things in black and white anymore instead he wanted color. How the guy came up with actual things to happen was beyond Stryker. He still has to figure out who Stan Lee was. That and he had a tendency to ask for unnatural payments. C4 at one time and pancakes another and a pool filled with jelly beans. Hopefully if Stryker did hire him this time he will ask for money. Just money and nothing else. But knowing his luck, Deadpool will ask for something odd.

No as sad as it was his only choice at the point was his own soldiers as well as his number one choice.

"Mrs. Jones, could you get the scientists working on the Carbonadium Synthesizer as soon as possible. And make sure it's working within the week." Stryker ordered through the phone to his new assistant who surprisingly was still working for him, despite the Government not backing him. He would have to be careful, the last thing he needed was to find out she was actually working for that backwards moron Nick Fury in SHIELD.

~ Cameo or Introduction of said character~

The chair he was sitting on was rather comfortable if he said so himself. The television in front of him, however, just went on and on about presidents and mutant affairs and human movements. It was rather comfortable though, even though it was made out of C4!

**_This is definitely better than the meat suite!_ **

_The meat suite was your idea!_

**_Was not!_ **

"Was too. I wonder what there is for movies today?" Deadpool said as he leant over and fetched the newspaper that was open revealing the Sunday funnies. Flipping through it he quickly found the television section and scanned through the movies.

"Damn nothing on." Deadpool whined as he threw the newspaper over his shoulder only for it to land behind his C4 chair. The lack of employment really sucked! Deadpool really had to figure out what to do next.

**_Become an X-Man!_ **

_That's not the smartest idea, you're supposed to be the one coming up with all the good ideas. I'm generally the side that warns him about things like the fact that his toast is burning…_

"That's a great idea! Wait – What. No! My toast. Why didn't you warn me earlier!" Deadpool yelled as he took off towards the small and cramped kitchen that had last week's dinner sitting on top of the fridge. It was a science experiment, was not his original idea, but he went with it nonetheless. Better then hallucinating about weird things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... Kinda mildly sorry for the cameo of Deadpool, couldn't help myself... lol


	12. Chapter 12

It was close to twelve am by the time X-23 moved from the room they claimed was her own. Her very own room! She was mildly pleased with that, hindered only because of her confusion over the situation. Her mother's letter to her was tucked away in its envelope and in the pocket of the gray sweater she was wearing. It was too warm, but she won't do anything about it at the moment. Unimportant.

Her mind traveled to Weapon X though, and she found herself wondering how he was doing. And she wondered what right did weapons like herself as well as Weapon X had in this type of world? She frowned slightly at that, but that emotional show was quickly covered with a more neutral expression. Her wandering, despite how aimless it was taken her to a kitchen area with one person inside.

It was Professor Xavier himself, who happened to be fixing himself a sandwich on a counter that was lowered for his benefit. She noted that it was probably designed to be that way for the Professor. It was obvious to anyone. X-23 scanned the room for a moment before wondering if she should or shouldn't be there.

"You can come in you know, you weren't there for breakfast. You are aware that you can in fact eat with us if you want?" Professor Xavier calmly said as he turned to her, a loaf of bread sitting on his lap. He was obviously just getting the requirements for his meal.

"I did not require anything at the time." X-23 said in a nearly detached tone and for his question she simply answered with a simple, "Yes."

"I see. But you're hungry now I assume." Professor Xavier calmly took what she said and accepting it with a question of his own.

"Yes." X-23 confirmed as she entered the kitchen, eyeing the knives and unconsciously noting how many different ways those would be used for when killing someone.

"Is there anything you prefer?" Professor Xavier asked. She thought about it for a moment, and in truth she never tasted anything she could smell in this room.

"I am unfamiliar with anything other then protein supplements." X-23 calmly explained as she walked up to the sunken counter Professor Xavier was in the process of using. She picked up a jar.

"Sounds awfully flavorless, one thing I do enjoy is a great tasting meal. It's sometimes a great pleasure to eat for the taste rather then the nourishment. In fact that is probably why deserts and tasty little treats were created quite some time ago." Professor Xavier calmly said a kind smile and unassuming words. All designed to put her at ease, and soften the blow of her not knowing much.

Taking her attention away from Professor Xavier rather than replying to what he just said and read the label on the jar. Dell Pickles. Opening it up she sniffed the contents, her nose wrinkled slightly, but the scent wasn't completely unpleasant. Just strong. Fishing out one pickle she noted what it felt like, what it smelt like and finally what it tasted like.

"Well?" Professor Xavier asked, she noted amusement in his tone. She gave him a blank stare, for some reason she wasn't entirely too pleased with his amusement. But she did nothing, said nothing. He was unfamiliar to her, despite her knowing who he is. So she didn't really bother too much with it. She finished the pickle without any hesitation and turned her attention to outside. She's seen outside plenty, but never looked at it.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

The man trembled, cowering in absolute beautifully portrayed fear he was the unlucky one who didn't fall to the lethal pheromones almost lovingly nicknamed death spores. No his fate was worse; he would have to deal with the origin of those lethal pheromones one-on-one. Bodies laid discarded around the large dining room. A fancy chandelier swung gently back and forth. The man was rather pale; the scent of death and of course the scent of both piss and shit was in the air. Fear and death tended to do that, it wasn't a pretty sight. But Arkady Rossovich now loved it more than most things.

Arkady of course was a serial killer, and mother Russia was of course his home country. He does not regret that, not by a long shot. Not even when he was captured by some unimportant Interpol agent and turned over to KGB and they wanted to recreate a super soldier similar to Captain America. The end results were not quite what they expected.

The result was Omega Red. Who Arkady Rossovich was, died during that experience. It was only Omega Red now.

And that all unavoidably led him here.

{You know something, comrade.} Omega Red said calmly as he approached the trembling man who was stuttering in both English and Russian, despite the fact that he was clearly a pure blooded Russian. _And they said that we Russians were supposed to be a tough bunch_ , Omega Red mused inwardly. This man who was cowering away from him as far as the smaller man could go was a disgrace, but Omega hardly cared about that. It was what the man knew that was important.

{You have to believe me! I…} The cowardly man stuttered, but was cut off by a cruel grip on his throat, Omega Red held on tightly with his bare hand. They were eye to eye and Omega Red knew the man hated to stare him in the eyes.

{Where is my Carbonadium Synthesizer.} Omega Red pushed, knowing the man was soon to break. Omega Red tightened his grip and watched as the man struggled to breathe for a good thirty seconds before releasing. Any longer this weakling would pass out.

{Its… I don't know what happened to it! I put the X-Men on its trail! Last I heard… Last I heard they sent one man after it…} The cowering man spilled, Omega Red released him altogether and stood up putting a little bit of space between the two of them. It gave the man confidence enough that he might live. He didn't know about the coils Omega Red would release and use to literally take the life right out of him.

{Who did these X-Men send?} Omega Red questioned as he pulled over a chair and sat down resting comfortably against a table next to him while eyeing the frightened man who obviously took the bait and was staring at him beseechingly.

{A man who goes by the name Wolverine, he's… He's also called Logan. Heard them address him by that name rather then his mutant name! Please… Please don't kill me!} The cowering man explained and pleaded.

Omega Red ignored him as he mulled over the information he finally got out of this man after trying to get the others to spill it. Guess they didn't know a thing, but at least they didn't die for nothing. Their deaths helped sustain Omega Red's life. Nodding to himself he sat up straight.

{So this Logan might have my Carbonadium Synthesizer.} Omega Red said, wanting one final confirmation to be sure.

{Yes! Yes! But I don't know what he did with it. They gave him an order to destroy it! So I don't know if it still is…} The cowering man practically yelped out, and Omega Red sat forward angrily.

{Destroy it!} Omega Red snapped, he couldn't afford that! He needed the Carbonadium Synthesizer because it was the only thing that could stabilize his condition. It was also the only thing that can neutralize the 'death factor' so it didn't affect him as much as it could affect others. Not only that, but it could be used to liquefy carbonadium so that it could be molded into new forms. Omega Red growled to himself, he was beyond angry. How dare those pompous nobodies! How dare they destroy what's rightfully his! They will pay! And they will pay dearly for this.

{I'm sorry…} The cowering man pleaded, folding his hands in front of him in a begging manner. Omega Red normally would be amused by the sight, but now it disgusts him. Lifting one arm, the bottom of his wrist pointed at the man who seemed to be both confused and wary of the movement watched closely. Without warning a coil shot out and circled around the man who was now screaming and pleading loudly.

He didn't get much of a chance to say much though, after all Omega Red's grip tightened to the point you could literally hear popping of bones and other squishy bits. Dropping the broken and dead man Omega Red withdrew the metallic coil and walked towards the door briskly, outside several of his workers waited for him. They worked for free, their lives was good enough for them.

The second he got to his car he noticed a man in uniform, American. Omega Red's eyes narrowed. And his workers were gone.

"Good evening, Mr. Rossovich. I trust everything went well for you in there." The American said in English, Omega Red understood English perfectly well. He noted the man to be rather confident where he stood leaning against the car Omega Red came here in.

"Da." Omega Replied, despite being in Russian it meant Yes and it was obvious that the American understood that well enough. Good, he hated translating what he said to non-Russian people.

"I doubt that Mr. Rossovich, the thing that you need and want was destroyed according to their information. Correct?" The American pointed out, smugly. He was playing confident like he had cards to hold over Omega Red. That was unacceptable, so he took a few steps towards the American ready to squeeze the life out of him with his bare hands. It would be more pleasing to do it that way. Hands were held up in a peace gesture.

"Vot do you know." Omega Red demanded in English as well, he was pretty good at speaking it. A simple, but irritating language in his opinion. It held no class at all.

"Plenty. I've been looking over your situation, and came to a conclusion that would help us both out. You want the Carbonadium Synthesizer. I want Weapon X. And before you say anything, I have blueprints so I'm fully capable of having it built from the ground up. And capable of sustaining your condition." The American explained. _Americans, they seem to think they know everything._ Omega Red thought irritably to himself. But it would be a lie to say that the American didn't catch his attention.

"So I get Veapon X for you and you give me the Carbonadium Synthesizer, yes?" Omega Red summed up.

"That is exactly it." The American confirmed with a nod. Omega Red thought it over for a moment, the sounds of sirens was heard now. He's been at the whole interrogation for about ten hours now. That was the window he got. And it was now closing. It wasn't a problem for Omega Red for obvious reasons, but he was surprised that the sirens slowed to a stop at a distance away.

"Very vell Mr.?" Omega Red agreed, though he addressed the American with a calculating politeness. After all, it wasn't unheard of to be polite to the enemy even if you're about to kill him within seconds. This American was safe from that, for the moment.

"Colonel William Stryker." Stryker introduced himself, offering a hand and Omega Red was pleased to see the slight wince when it was taken in a handshake. People who knew his reputation didn't seem to remember that he was quite capable of touching someone without them dying. Unless of course, Omega Red wanted them to, then they would die without question. Or if he needed to secrete his pheromones due to build up and the effect they unfortunately had on him.

"Colonel, you can call me Omega Red. Arkady Rossovich is counted as dead, agreed. And I vill get your veapon back, and you give me the Carbonadium Synthesizer. If not. Then you vill learn vhy you don't cross me." Omega Red stated, it was obvious now that he agreed to the situation. But mark his words, he would kill the American and anyone else who gets in his way should he even catch the slightest hint of betrayal.

"Perfect. I have a jet waiting for us at the airport about five miles from here. Do you mind if we leave now?" Stryker nearly wheedled, obviously pleased that things so far were going as planned. Omega Red calmly noted that as he started to feel the slow leeching affect his own death factor has against him, he would have to tend to that again later on. But for now he answered the American Colonel with a simple,  
"Da, let us go then."

With that Stryker led them to an unmarked vehicle; surprisingly it was the American himself who drove the car rather than relying on personal drivers. Omega Red got in on the passenger side. Omega Red was being filled in on his living expenses and the fact that his passport and everything of that sort was already taken care of so it wouldn't have to be handled at the small airport or within the United States itself. A brief case was handed to Omega Red; he was delighted to see the detailed information about the X-Men as well as Weapon X in it. On top was a part of the blueprint of the Carbonadium Synthesizer. So far, it matched what he remembered about it.

One thing was for sure, the American Colonel Stryker was lucky Omega Red didn't have to release his lethal pheromones at this second, but soon he would have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {} means they're speaking in another language. In this chapter that language was Russian.
> 
> Da = Yes


	13. Chapter 13

Charles found himself musing on his little interaction with Laura. She still had a long way to go, but she was showing promise. She had the ability to act without being told, and was trying to think things over for herself. She wasn't doing the best of jobs, but she was at least attempting it. And that was all Charles could ask from her. He left her in the kitchen with Jean who entered just as he was leaving. She made a remarkable recovery from the injuries she got from Logan while they were trying to rescue him, and the second she was fully recovered she came back because she felt she was needed here more. He could sense she was timid of the feral man, but not afraid. That was promising.

Charles couldn't blame her, anyone who nearly gets mauled by a feral Logan would be either frightened of him or timid. They were sometimes angry and spiteful. It was Victor who concerned her more; she refused to help him with the glow. So it was only Charles who could assist the aggressive man with his 'fix' in order to keep him from doing something that won't be able to be undone.

Entering his own office that was crossed with a classroom he eyed the monitors set up next to his desk. There was only one occupant in the cells now, isolated and alone. Which Charles knew for a fact was the worst thing for the man. At least before Logan had Laura down there with him with the regular visits from Kurt who always brought the three meals down without fail. Taping his fingers on his desk he eyed the monitor and the pacing Logan.

He wasn't settling down much since Victors visit. Charles had to take a look to see why, but in order to do that he would have to fight with Logan just to be able to get a glimpse past the hurt and angry feral cover to take a glimpse at the wounded man underneath. That would put him too far into the gray area as it was, but he was already there with the times he had to shut Logan off by force. Frowning slightly Charles understood the weight of that decision. It was the same thing with Jean and her unfortunate darker side that was locked away. It was one of those things that would put him at odds with Logan, and at odds with both Victor and possibly Scott who was still not talking to him.

Should he do it? And worse, could he simply force his way into the man's mind? The answer unfortunately was yes, Charles was no longer the white and black individual he was back when Raven was still looking like a teenager, despite the fact that she was a young adult like Charles. Back when Shaw was a threat and before Erik killed him. No life unfortunately taught him that it was in shades of gray. And Charles still had that dream of peace between mutants and humans, nothing would change that. He just learnt he had to deal with situations in a questionable manner. Just like he had connections within the government, within the CIA still and other places he'd rather not disclose.

Eyeing the monitor for a few more moments he finally decided to turn his attention to the files he had on Logan. So many horrors inside it. So much pain and torment. It would be worse in the man's head. Vaguely he wondered if Victor Creed would have made the same choices if he knew exactly what was going to happen to the brother he swore to protect.

It was true he didn't have the highest of hopes for Logan given what he sensed from him during times of fighting between Victor and Scott. But he was a hopeless optimist at times. And if it was worth fighting for, and trying to help the man. Then, Charles will do all that he could. But it'll also be up to Victor and Logan himself as well. The others no doubt would help when the time came.

His phone rang, breaking him out of his own thoughts. It was Moira and her update on how everyone was doing. He smiled at the sound of her voice and the good news that she gave him. It was good to hear good news for a change. And he told her what he was planning on doing; she was skeptical, but wished him well nonetheless. His conversation with her, light back and forth idle chitchat lasted about twenty minutes.

The second he hung up Charles contacted Peter and Hank, told them to collect Logan from his cage and take him to the downstairs infirmary. What Rogue once dubbed as the hospital for mutants. That was the only place that had the kind of supplies required for what Charles was about to do. Yes, he was fully prepared to face the knowledge of what he was about to do was going pretty far in the gray area and what it would look like through Logan's eyes. Victor Creed couldn't be told for obvious reasons, the same thing with Laura. Despite their fractured personalities, they would naturally fight. It was instinct for them, even further intertwined than they knew and acknowledged.

He could sense wariness from both Hank and Peter for this. But they moved towards the cells to do just what he asked. He told Kurt, Jean and Scott to keep Victor and Laura distracted and upstairs. Despite the frequent visits from others, these were the only people he had here. And it was good too; too many people would be harder to manage with this kind of rehabilitation. It would cause more stress and anxiety.

Charles made his way to the elevator, his heart heavy. This was not an easy or light decision on his part.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X kept pacing in his cage, back and forth and back and forth. Only to repeat over and over again in several different directions. He couldn't make sense of what just happened, what the clawed man said or why it seemed like it was so important. He couldn't make sense of why he got angry at the accusations, if that was what it was. Weapon X snarled angrily.

Eyeing the metal container filled half full with water; Weapon X vaguely knew what it was. Knew so by instinct and used it by instinct. Not entirely sure what the white stuff was for though. He was an animal, so everything was pointless for him. Weapon X turned his attention away from the useless thing and started to pace the room again.

Where the clawed man sat was missing, the blue handler took it. Left an awful stench too! Weapon X growled because of that. His handlers never cared about his keen senses; in fact he knew they did things just to torment him in ways that didn't always require touching him. Weapon X crouched in front of the bed, not using it still. Didn't have a reason to use it. Didn't know why he should use it.

The clone has yet to be brought back. That created a sensation in his gut he didn't recognize, it was the same kind of sensation he got the last time they were both in an explosion together. Closing his eyes he leant back, face tipped upwards slightly. Remembering.

_Target confirmed. Attack commenced and X-23 went in through the right, Weapon X went in through the left. Fast and efficient, their combined force was deadly and any armed individual fell without much of a fight. They were ordered to not kill unarmed civilians, the prisoners. A few of the targets had bombs strapped to their chests. Adamantium cut through those like a sharp knife to silk._

_X-23 opened the way for the prisoners to run to safety. As ordered._

_Mission deemed successful. Targets terminated. Unarmed civilians – the prisoners, safe._

_Next faze was to return to handlers. Weapon X wasn't entirely fond of that, but what else would he do? He was a weapon, and he's never known freedom. This was the life he knew, understood. Strived in. And Weapon X did it well._

_Movement, turning his attention he saw a half dead target holding on to X-23 who was snarling and spitting in rage at being latched onto. Then the explosion went off, knocked Weapon X down to his hands and knees, back towards the general direction of the explosion. X-23! He didn't know why or how or what the purpose was. But all he could figure out at the current moment was that he had to get to her._

_He found her. Unconscious, damage was already starting to heal. Alive. Weapon X let go of his breath, why was he holding it?_

_A whistle was heard. Weapon X instantly picked her up and went back to the life he knew, with his clone in hand. The female handler for X-23 was sneering, Weapon X never liked her. But things were what they were._

Weapon X snarled slightly, was that the same thing? How could it be? No explosion. No blood. No fighting. Absolute calmness, quiet. Unnerved. Weapon X growled loudly as he nearly sprung to his feet to start pacing again. Unnatural!

The door opened, Weapon X turned his attention directly to the two newcomers. Large newcomers. Weapon X growled at them, claws out instantly. They took up two sides of the cage and it opened. Weapon X looked at it indecisively.

The blue furry handler opened his mouth to speak, but Weapon X wouldn't hear any of it. Words meant nothing to him. He attacked, knocking the blue furry handler onto his back and holding both sets claws an inch away from his blue face. The blue furry handler's teeth were bared angrily as well. Weapon X sneered, another animal. Wonderful! Weapon X understood what the bared teeth meant, he himself had his bared. Though his weren't as sharp as the blue furry handlers. But one thing was for sure, Weapon X's claws were sharper then the furry handler's fingernails.

"A little help would be…" The blue furry handler snarled out to the other person who came, but his words was cut off by Weapon X's angry snarl as metal arms wrapped around his stomach and pulled him off of the blue handler.

"Appreciated… Thank you Peter." The blue furry handler finished as he quickly shot up to his feet, the handler was fast that much Weapon X acknowledged as he twisted angrily and snapping at the man behind him. The metal handler nodded, Weapon X growled. Kicking his feet angrily he knew he hit the metal handler, but it had no effect. Twisting, arching his back and snapping his head back to hit the handler wasn't working as well as he would have hopped.

So he used his claws, and caught the top part of the metal handlers shoulder. Only pausing in shock when he saw blood. The metal was bleeding? That wasn't normal; Weapon X knew that well enough. He has sliced into many metal things and none of them bled before. Weapon X could tell the metal handler was in pain. Obviously this metal can feel pain and bleed! Sneering at that Weapon X pulled his claws back and watching faintly as the blood ran freely. Before he could cut into the metal handler, the blue furry handler got a better handle on his wrists and held them away from both the metal and the blue handler.

"Perhaps we should have brought something that would have contained these claws." The metal one strained out. The blue one nodded in agreement, and seemed both annoyed and angry with the situation. But he failed to take it out on Weapon X. Snarling loudly he attempted to kick at the blue one missing twice, but connecting with the blue ones crouch at least once. The blue handler grunted in pain and fought to keep himself from doubling over. Weapon X let out a slight amused sound at that.

"That my friend, is not funny." The blue handler said, pain could be heard in his voice. Weapon X ignored that, words meant nothing to him. The two spoke to each other briefly before the blue one let go of Weapon X's wrists altogether. But before he could use his claws against the metal one, the metal one grabbed onto his wrists and crossed his arms across his chest. Restraining his upper body again!

Weapon X roared in both anger and frustration. The metal man spoke softly, the word comrade appeared. But Weapon X couldn't begin to fathom what that meant or cared to consider it. He just kept struggling, and struggled harder when he saw the blue one coming back with a chair on wheels of sorts. Restraints were clearly spotted. The head rest also had restraints on it.

Weapon X's gut seemed to sink a little at that as the realization set in that something was going to happen to him today. His new handlers were going to finally start poking at him, cutting on him and other unspeakable things. Weapon X looked at the blue one who looked guilty for some reason. Good! Weapon X glared hatefully at the man, he won't make it easy for them!


	14. Chapter 14

Doctor Hank McCoy always prided himself with being a very intellectual individual, logical. It wasn't that he preferred logic over emotions; you can't be a proper person with just logic or just emotions after all. So he embraced both as good as he could. Unfortunately his own emotions made him feel shame for mutations that aren't exactly easy to hide unless you're wearing a confining shoe. Alex teased him about it plenty of times, going so far as to call him bozo. His kid crush on Raven was short due to her changing views and his self-hatred for his own mutation. It could have been beautiful.

Of course his own attempts to look like everyone else backfired, guess he should have been happy with himself in the first place. Now he has blue skin and fur as a reminder of accepting oneself and don't inject yourself with untested chemicals. Needlessly said, he now couldn't walk out in public like he used to be able to. But he was happy nonetheless. He came back to his roots, and those he felt were here. At Charles's school. Most students do come back eventually. Alex has yet to come back, but he blamed that on Scott to a point. Still, brothers will be brothers no doubt.

Now with the blue skin and fur came emotions and instincts he's never had to deal with before. Faintly he wondered if this was what their resident grouch has to deal with, and Hank wondered if his older brother Victor Creed had to deal with the same thing? But one embraced it and one denied it. And, despite not knowing Logan for long, the guy seemed to be in control of those emotions and instincts well enough. _I cannot help, but wonder how Logan would react to what's happening right now… His total lack of control of those emotions and instincts._ Hank thought to himself as he eyed the struggling man in the restraining wheelchair.

Guilt swam swelled up in Hank; he hated having to do this. But there was no other way to get the man to come and to understand that they weren't going to harm him or anything. So Hank had no choice, but to quietly let him fume and struggle against restraints that looked like they were starting to cut into flesh. Peter had to rush ahead; Jean was called down to tend to his injuries. Which left Scott and Kurt to tend to not only Victor, but Laura as well on their own. He hoped that they wouldn't have too much to deal with up there. Hank didn't know how either would react to the situations that were going on down here. How they would react to what's happening to Logan.

"My friend, what will it take to have you understand that we are not here to hurt you." Hank murmured to a raging feral Logan who didn't stop long enough to hear Hank's guilt filled words.

The second they entered the infirmary he wheeled Logan over to a smaller room attached to it. Within it was a machine he built with Charles's help. It was like cerebro, but built to sharpen and strengthen Charles's focus on one mind. Two helmets were attached to a machine the size of a vending machine. Screens were there to show any changes to either Charles or in this case Logan. There was no way for others to see what was going on in either mind. This wasn't the cursed Reifying Encephalographic Monitor after all. Yes Hank knew all about that thing. It was a torturous invention, despite the so-called safety protocols put in place to ensure that it wouldn't be used to brainwash and alter memories.

Hank barely noticed that Logan stilled at the sight of the machine.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles was already waiting when Hank rolled Logan into the room, he was already aware of the trouble the struggling man put up. Saw proof of that on Peter's shoulder as three gashes were created. Poor Peter was in pain, but Charles was proud that not once did the large young man hold any grudge for it. Charles turned the machine on, and tried to ignore the restart of growls coming from the only other person in a wheelchair in this room.

"Thank you Hank, if you could be so kind as to hook him up for me. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to do it myself with how he's struggling at the moment." Charles calmly said, holding his own helmet delicately in his hands and watched as Hank only nodded while pushing Logan in position and locking the chair in place. It was originally from this room, used for unruly people who needed this sort of treatment. Most students and X-Men weren't entirely sure of this room. They knew it existed, but never dared to truly understand what it was for or what was in it. Charles was afraid that this would either nearly or completely destroy the bond he had with his students.

He could sense the guilt and concern rolling off of Hank in thick waves. The fur covering Hank's body that wasn't covered by clothes was completely flattened. Hank left soon after. Charles turned his attention to Logan who was growling and glaring accusing looks. It was a shame that Logan assumed the worse, but understandable nonetheless.

"I'm doing this for your own good. To help you." Charles said as he put the helmet on, they both were attached to the machine now and Charles could feel his mind already trying to touch Logan's. There was a lot of damage and REM modifications standing in the way though.

"I want you to hear what I'm about to do…" Charles calmly stated before speaking right into Logan's mind, _'…I'm going to be entering your mind, by force unfortunately. This means, you will feel pain, but it won't be completely physical, despite how it might seem to be that way. It won't be a pleasurable experience I'm afraid, you will try to fight me. I have to ask you not to. If you're in there at all Logan. Do not fight me.This is for your own good.'_

"I'm sorry for this." Charles quietly said silently thanking the fact that the room is sound proof. With everything said Charles closed his eyes and pushed.

~ Logan's MIND Part I ~

Charles was aware that he made Logan scream bloody murder because of the intense pain focused on his mind. Normally Charles could get into people's minds without them feeling it, and if they did it would have been as light as a feather. But a mind as damaged as this one and with as much tampering as this mind had done. It couldn't be helped unfortunately.

Opening his eyes he found himself sitting in a normal chair, old looking. The room looked old to be one found in this age. Looking around faintly he noticed a bed, blankets thrown aside. It looked like someone jumped out of bed, someone small. A child perhaps. A chair was near the fireplace, odd sight to see in what he's starting to assume to be a child's room. It looked old, as did the chair and the few toys Charles spotted. There were odd fingernails on the floor next to the chair.

The whole room seemed to give a slight barely audible groaning noise, not human or animal. The kind a building gives when stressed. It seemed like there was a lot pushing against this room. And he wasn't entirely sure why he appeared here. He will have to describe the room to Victor; he probably knew more than Charles did when it came to this room.

Touching the doorknob Charles instantly pulled his hand back, looking at his hand. It felt like it burned, like hot liquid rather than fire. Looking at his hand it was covered with blood. Frowning he looked at the doorknob for a moment, it looked fine. Normal and safe. Looking back at his hand it didn't have a trace of blood on it. Attentively touching the doorknob for a second time he noticed it didn't burn or shock him in any way. It just didn't turn.

"Logan, I must say even your mind is stubborn." Charles muttered to himself as he focused his mind even more, not aware of the growling happening outside the mind. Even though he was barely conscious due to the exploration being done to his mind, Logan was snarling. It was normal at times.

Meanwhile Charles decided to approach a window that was covered with dark liquid that wasn't running, but staying still just as though it was an undisturbed pond. Steeling himself he approached it, carefully touching it only to pull his finger back. It felt warm, like body heat. And looking at his finger it was dripping with blood. Charles looked far from amused. If this was what a child's room was like in his mind. Charles dreaded going deeper. But he had to. Whipping the blood on his pants he set his fingers to his temple and approached the door once more.

It felt like hours, but in fact was minutes. Charles managed to pull the door open, gaining access to the rest of Logan's mind. Working carefully he stepped out into an old hallway, but it was obvious that the place was decaying from age. The paint was fading; dust was rampant as was cobwebs. Wood was chipped, splintered and the railing he approached was no longer there. Looking down below he saw skeletons dressed in old clothing not from this time. Understandable considering how old Logan was.

The entire place looked like it was falling apart and that the local wildlife has long since moved in. He knew though that, despite appearing here and the significance of this place. Logan did not know this place; if he did Charles would be feeling familiar with it rather, then cautious, uncertain and curious. Charles felt like he didn't know this place at all, it was foreign. And for Charles that was an accurate thing. For Logan on the other hand, it was not something that was supposed to be.

Taking a deep breath he approached the front door, dread set heavily. Dread, hurt, anger, love, pain, betrayal, satisfaction, morbid satisfaction, sadistic glee, guilt and crushing rage. Nowhere could he sense anything close to calmness. He didn't get the feeling of being safe and secure. It took him a few minutes to realize that he was using the doorframe to steady himself as he stood unsteadily on suddenly weak legs. He was panting in exertion from the blow of feeling all of those emotions at once.

"Easy now Charles, you have to be strong to get through this. I know it's strong, the emotions and instincts bearing down on you. But for Logan you have to take it…" Charles said to himself, one last prep talk before he entered the wilderness you could say. And the horrors that lie in every shadow and behind every corner. Right now everything looked like a forest and grounds of a rather rich estate.

But he knew better than most that you can't trust your eyes in someone's mind. It was deceiving. Just like a labyrinth with dead ends and corners that tricked you every step you make. This wasn't going to be a stroll in the park. Looking up in the sky it looked like stormy weather, but instead of the sounds of thunder and lightning it sounded more like tanks and gunshots.

With a deep breath he steeled himself further and took his first step outside the house, the second he was outside he no longer could see the house. Just the entrance with doors that looked like they could fall off of their hinges at the first gust of wind. Any of the emotions that he initially felt didn't let up.

_Pain!_

_What have you done to me!_

Charles frowned; he recognized that voice as Logan's right away. But there was an angry and feral edge to those words that made them come out as more of a growl than what Logan could normally sound like, and the man was gruff as it was. Even going so far as coming across as illiterate and ill-spoken, but Charles knew better saw sharp intelligence in his eyes far beyond what he knew at the time.

His eyes scanning the tree-line, and so far much to his shock there was no change. Until he heard rustling. Looking over in the direction he heard the noise, he saw a boy staring at him with an emotionless look. Blood dripping from his hands and pooling at his bare feet. Charles noticed the claws then and the trembling fists that showed the pain his hands and wrists were in. But it was the boy's eyes that concerned him the most.

"Logan." Charles tried uncertain, but he kept any uncertainness out of his voice. Kept it polite.

"My name's not Logan. It's James." The boy corrected almost offended to be called Logan, but still no change in expression or lack thereof.

"Okay, very well James then. What are you doing out here?" Charles acknowledged calmly as he directed a question towards the boy named James.

"Hiding." James answered with little to no emotion.

"Hiding? From who?" Charles pushed, trying to dig whatever information he could gain in order to help James/Logan from this situation. It was imperative that he did.

"The bad men, in the white coats. They're always so mean to me. They hurt me, hurt me lots." James explained no emotion still.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Charles said, honestly. No child should even get a glimpse of what that might be like. It wasn't fair to the child.

"No you're not. No one is that's why they chase me away. They don't want me around so it's only the men in white coats for me." James said, a light giggle almost heard. Almost like he found it funny, but Charles saw no life in those eyes. A damaged and broken boy. Shattered innocence was what Charles could come up with.

"Why don't you come with me, I know a place where you can be safe. No one will chase you away there. I promise." Charles reassured, trying to coax the boy now. Ignoring the crushing blows from countless emotions overlapping themselves.

"I can't come with you though. He'll hurt you if I go." James said, emotionless again. Shaking his head in disagreement.

"Who?" Charles asked, taking a step forward only to stop when James took a step back.

"The bad man. But he's not a man at all you see. He's an animal in human skin. A real wolf who snarls and snaps at anything living. He was trained to do that, sir." James explained almost gleefully. The switch between emotions and none was almost dizzying, but given what Charles could sense already. That was nothing in comparison.

"Who is this bad man, can you tell me his name?" A nod from the boy caused Charles to push on by asking a simple, "Who?"

"He doesn't have a name not one like me. But you can call him Weapon X. He's really mean. He attacks anything and everything that moves." James explained without any emotion, but a slight tremble spoke of fear. This boy, James was afraid of Weapon X.

"I can prot…" Charles started to promise, dreading how desperate his voice might have sounded at the time.

"Shhh!" James interrupted a teasing smile on his face. And the next thing Charles knew was that the boy was running away.

"Wait!" Charles called after him, instincts taking over and Charles chased after the boy. Not completely aware of the surroundings melting away into knew ones. Until he slammed right into a metal door. Cursing lightly he looked around. There was no boy to be seen and no tracks to ever show he ran this way. Only tracks that there was belonged to Charles and even those were fading.


	15. Chapter 15

Charles backed away from the metal door, long since decided that he wouldn't be able to find the boy, despite how he called for him. Concern overriding common sense for a moment there. His attention was now on the rather large building. There was a caution sign on the wall beside the door. No explanations on what to be cautious about, but Charles heeded it nonetheless. He will be cautious.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the heavy doors open, surprised that they were heavy. But nonetheless he opened the door. Only to find himself looking outside rather than in a building. Frowning he looked behind him and saw nothing but fencing that looked like it was meant to keep something inside and intruders out. Walking ahead he found himself approaching a small town like village. And Charles remembered images like this one from history books.

This was a small Frontier in what Charles was going to assume was British Columbia. Again, this place seemed unfamiliar from the emotions he's picking up from Logan. Curiosity caught the better of him as he wondered further into town, but his curiosity soon gave way to concern and weariness. Everyone who was in this town had no faces and Charles could tell that they were talking to each other, but no sound came out of identical mouths. A shiver went down his spine, it was unsettling and he came to the same conclusion that Logan's mind was seriously tampered with.

And it was extremely fragile due to the sense that things could break and shatter even worse, then they already were as he traveled places where Logan's been, but didn't remember going. It was an extremely rare situation of being able to travel places you subconsciously know, but don't remember in an amnesiac case like this, but it didn't surprise Charles one bit. Logan was quite old, far older than most would expect and at a point where Charles could nearly be considered a young adult if you were going by Logan's age. Being that the mind was fragile as it was, Charles was glad that he was the one walking through it rather than a beginner or a careless psychic. It would cause a lot of damage; Charles was an expert so he would know this to be fact.

"Dressed kind o' too nice for this place, bub. Nice suite. Ya someone made o' money lookin' to strike a deal 'round here?" A voice, a very recognizable voice said from behind him. Though this one had less aggression in it and more humanity if it wasn't too unkind of him to say. Turning around Charles noticed that it was in fact Logan standing there, but his clothing were older fashioned matching everyone else's. Hands were dirty and hair was tamer. His eyes were hard, but a softer edge to them.

Charles knew instantly who he was looking at though. This wasn't the X-Man's Wolverine; this wasn't the animal or the weapon. And he most certainly wasn't the shattered boy who went through trauma of some sort with the healthy fear of Weapon X.

"Logan?" Charles tried, cautious stepped up inwardly. Not wanting to set off another part of Logan. He already had to chase after the boy, and the older Logan got the more temperamental the man seemed to have become. Instantly he noticed Logan's eyes narrowing.

"Wrong person, baldy my names James. Logan is the name o' my dear dead ol' man. Victor's Father. Son of a bitch that guy. Drunk too." 'James' corrected, his lip curling slightly, but Charles noticed that it was quickly corrected. This man, James, seemed to be as Charles guessed. More of a man, his feral instincts fought and covered. Charles could sense and feel that conflict as if it was his own conflict.

"I'm sorry. Who? You have to forgive me, you just looked like someone I knew." Charles apologized, making sure to sound sincere to appease the obviously hard-working man. By the looks of it, this James would probably get along with people better and most likely get along with Scott better then did. Less alpha male posturing and less aggression. From what Charles sensed, there was another who took that role. Charles hated describing it like that, but it was proven even with humans that there were alphas and followers. It was how the pecking order in every situation was created.

"Guess I got one of 'em faces then. You never answered me, why're you here?" James said skeptically, but acting friendly nonetheless. Charles didn't blame this man, this version of the X-Men who desperately needed their help. Charles's help.

"Traveling, seeing the world and my travels happened to have brought me here. You?" Charles said, it was an odd feeling to be talking to a version of James. But Charles knew for a fact that it was only a projection of the subconscious. Different parts to the man to make a whole. The shattered boy. The hard-working man. Charles knew he would be meeting more the deeper he went. And the deeper he went the more horrors and pains he will find. It was concerning.

When will he find the real one in a matter of speech? When will he find Logan, the Logan of the present?

"Workin' the mine. Live with my brother, he's meaner then me. But when you get to know the guy, he's alright. Odd sense o' humor though." James said, and Charles got the feeling that he's used this explanation many times. Warning people about a meaner brother, but making it known that he won't leave the older feral. Won't betray the man who was James's only family in the world now. Where was his mother?

"Is the work here good?" Charles asked casually, without thinking actually. And that was a dangerous thing, to not think when you were in someone's mind. But Charles was rarely in old minds like this. Victor's mind didn't count because one he never stayed for long if he could help it and he got away from that mind as soon as the feral mutant got his glow.

"I wouldn' try it bub. You look too soft for this kind o' work." James taunted a single barked laugh spoke of honest amusement. Charles felt himself grinning at the obviously amused man.

"You'd be surprised…" Charles casually said, but he was interrupted and the whole sense of the mind was shifting again. It was like the weather when Ororo was moody, always shifting and changing.

"Gotta go, hungry an' promised Victor I'd meet him at the bar. Good luck in traveling, watch out for the bears. Nasty 'round this time of the year." James said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Charles was going to call the man back, but he disappeared through a door as a few faceless men exited. A growling sound caught his attention, none of the faceless people reacted. Charles turned around only to see a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Though wires were attached to it, pumping something he could only guess was adrenaline into the bear making it more aggressive. The sound of a heartbeat caught his attention, fast and angry. His? Logan's?

Charles couldn't move though, but he felt pain in his arms and his wrists. Something horrible was cutting into him! Blood spurted out as six foot long adamantium claws sprung free and without the ability to stop it, Charles lets out a pained scream. This wasn't supposed to happen, not when Charles was in control of his own mind. Looking up at the bear in time to see its claws bearing down on him. Knocking him to the snow covered ground with a hard unforgiving thud. There wasn't snow a few seconds ago.

Pain! That was all Charles could focus on. Looking at his hands there were no longer any claws, but there was blood. He could still feel the phantom pain from them coming free. Was this what Logan felt every time he used his claws? How could the man tolerate such pain every time? But the larger amount of blood and pain drew his attention away. His chest had four deep gash wounds. His reaction was to claw at it, instinct telling him to get away from the pain and fast. To run away from it. And worse, he could feel it starting to seal back together again. He could literally feel everything re-growing and re-attaching. It hurts. He couldn't remember feeling pain like this before, not even when that bullet hit him in the back.

Charles was aware that he was hyperventilating, if he didn't get his bearings soon Logan's nightmares and memories would keep dragging him through experience after experience without rest. It would damage Charles's mind in return! Closing his eyes he mildly cursed how strong Logan's more fragile mind actually was. He never expected it to be like this, Logan always kept his thoughts guarded. Afraid to let someone else in and bare his burdens with him. Now he had a good idea why.

The bear was gone. So Charles squeezed his eyes closed as he lied on the ground while he caught his breath and re-centered himself. It didn't take as long as he dreaded that it would, slowly he got up. He couldn't feel any pain anymore and any traces of blood on him gone. Looking around Charles found himself in an empty field. The scent of death was heavy in the air. And he knew why.

Bodies. Hundreds of them. Rotting, flies flying around and gunshots rang out in the air and the sky looked as though explosions gone off kicking up dust and dirt. It looked like the sky would during the heat of battle. Looking around Charles brought a hand to his mouth and nose, different uniforms and all of them he could recognize as soldier uniforms from the civil wars on to the uniforms both American and Canadians have worn up to Vietnam. And Charles knew instantly, these were all of the soldiers Logan's ever killed. And there wasn't an end in sight.

"My God…" Charles gasped, horrified. He kept himself from tripping and tried to ignore when he stepped in something he didn't want to know what it was. An interesting thing to notice though was few of them had claw marks in them. Gunshots and knife wounds, but no claws were used. It would appear that Logan kept his claws hidden in order to be more human. What changed? Well Charles could guess that one easy, life and people not leaving the man alone.

Charles didn't know how long he was wondering, but stopped the second he noticed someone sitting on a log, shoulders hunched and in a uniform found in the civil wars. Hair neat, short and the disposition of the man told Charles it was Logan.

"James?" Charles tried, trying not to look at the bodies and the unseeing eyes looking directly at him. They weren't open minutes ago.

"Nobody called me by 'at name for quite some time, bub. Question is, how do you know it?" The soldier, Logan gruffly said over his shoulder. Gun in hand. Charles wanted to smack his forehead in frustration. Why couldn't Logan keep his projections all under one name?

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Victor paced angrily, why was it that he wasn't allowed to go downstairs! The clone watched him with emotionless eyes as though she was trying to figure something out before her attention was drawn away by the friendly blue elf who was of all things playing chess with her. The girl was kicking his ass and she didn't even seem to proud of that, she obviously didn't know how to be. Pathetic.

The four-eyed wannabe leader stayed between him and the elevator. Glaring. Victor glared back. A snarl rumbled in his throat. He didn't like being told he couldn't do something, and his instincts were telling him to get downstairs. And now!

"Ah, meine freund you are certainly a terror in chess. Have you played before?" The blue elf chirped happily, tail swishing back and forth. It was pissing Victor off! His claws were lengthening and shortening finger by finger then whole hands before doing the whole process again. It was the only thing keeping him from ripping the tail off and tying a bow with it and four eyes innards.

"No, but I am familiar with tactical strategies." The clone's voice replied and Victor tuned the rest of the conversation out as he glared angrily at four eyes. Surprised he wasn't wearing that geeky visor anymore. Guess he finally figured out that Victor wasn't really here to scrap with anyone, despite the little disagreement in the tunnels below. Or the golden boy got his visor taken away. What's next, time out?

"Why ain't you lettin' me go down there?" Victor finally demanded, taking a few steps so he was face-to-face with the golden boy who was now forced to look him in the eyes.

"Orders." The golden boy deadpanned without offering any more explanation. Victor let out a loud snarl, his claws lengthened.


	16. Chapter 16

Charles approached Logan calmly; an apologetic expression played on his features a mild attempt to put the now suspicious soldier at ease.

"My apologies, you just look like a man I met once. So what are you going by now rather then James?" Charles casually asked as he stood near the man who was still pretty clean cut compared to the present version no doubt struggling and nearly foaming at the mouth in his rage. Charles really did feel horrible for it, he truly did. But this was for Logan's own good.

"Interesting fellow, this James ya mentioned." Logan stated, a colder undertone spoke of the mans doubt. Charles knew that there was no remedying that now.

"One of the most interesting minds I've ever met." Charles answered honestly, there were few minds that caught his attention and fewer still that were strong enough to hold his attention and reject his reading here and there. This was a rare instance where he wasn't pushed from Logan's guarded fragile mind. One wrong step, Charles knows he could shatter the man's mind.

Groaning caught Charles's attention as he turned around. The bodies! The bodies that were staring at him before were bleeding profusely and now shifting and moving towards him. It was like a horrible horror movie. Charles glanced at this version of Logan only to find him completely gone. That wasn't right! A projection shouldn't just disappear so easily without something giving way to it. It was almost like that projection of Logan was a ghost and nothing more. A firm grip on his ankle drew his attention downward. Staring up at him was a soldier, young and afraid looking, despite half his face missing due to the damage of a shot taken at short distance. A gurgled word that sounded awfully like help came from a flopping bloody mouth.

Charles let out a scream and kicked the hand away. Usually he wouldn't react like that, not in someone's mind, but the emotions he was getting from this old mind was nearly overwhelming. He was going to have to leave soon and he hasn't even found the real Logan yet! Stumbling backwards he fell only to keep falling for a short distance until he landed in a puddle. Looking around Charles noticed faceless soldiers in a trench. He recognized this as one of the ones you would see in pictures in history books. This was World War One.

This time Charles found himself dressed in the same uniform with a gun harmlessly in his grasp.

"Well don't you just lay there soldier! Get up 'n get shooting. They ain't gonna drop dead on 'ere own!" A gruff voice came from a man who had his back turned to Charles, but he recognized the voice as Logan. Charles started to get up when 'Logan' crotched down and gave him a hard look. There was less innocence in this man then there used to be in the Civil War's version. But this man saw more war and killed more people then that Logan probably ever thought he would have had to.

"Go by Patch, mocked for it too. But decided it was better then anything else." Patch answered casually, but didn't ask Charles's name in return. Charles knew why, the man didn't expect to know him long enough to pass names along. Sad fact, but unfortunately true in this war and the following World War.

"Why not your actual name?" Charles asked as he accepted the helping hand surprisingly offered. Somehow he knew that the elder brother would probably mock Logan for this if he saw.

"Shits and giggles mostly. Ain't like it's gonna matter for long, I'll just use another one in the next war." Patch answered with an uncaring shrug. It was fact and that was the end of the story there. Charles didn't think he would be getting the story or the memory of how that name came to be; in fact he's hardly come across memories just projections and landscapes. Odd.

"How do you know there will be another war?" Charles asked, but he knew the answer. He just wanted to know what Logan would have said.

"There's always war, bub. Grow up. The world ain't sunshine and daisies." Patch grumpily said, Charles saw the resignation in the man's eyes on that and Charles felt his gut clench in sympathy for the man. He's seen too much already and was damaged for it. Charles hoped that one day he could somehow create a world where Patch's prediction would no longer be true. Especially between humans and mutants.

"Rather unfortunate." Charles said, a grunt was a sign of agreement.

"Victor wouldn't agree, says we're made for it. I don't agree." Patch grumbled out reluctantly, but added before Charles could voice his opinion,  
"Why the hell're you bald?"

"Shits and giggle mostly." Charles echoed one of Patch's earlier answers and gained a short, but honest chuckle from the man. It wasn't often that Charles swore, but he's been known to do so every now and again. You don't read people's minds without learning a lot about swearing and doing it properly.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

X-23 was finished with playing chess against the mutant Nightcrawler after she defeated him at the game several times. She had to give it to him though; he didn't give up easily and didn't sulk about it. Standing up she too started to wonder why the man she learnt was Weapon X's older brother wasn't allowed down to where Weapon X was.

She casually approached the two men who were now glaring at each other with no ground gained in either direction.

"I wish to go down and see Weapon X now." X-23 exclaimed calmly leaving no room for debates. This was what she wanted, and for once she was trying to decide what she wanted. However, it looked like she was doing wrong as every time before when she tried to think for herself. And she was known to try to think for herself sometimes. It was why she didn't kill that boy she was assigned to kill by Doctor Rice.

"As I told Creed here, I was given orders to keep the two of you upstairs. I'm sorry but there's no way around it." Scott Summers said though more politely then what he said to Victor Creed. She sensed tension between the two of them, unknown why though.

"Unacceptable." X-23 claimed staring steadily into the shades Scott Summer had to wear due to his mutation. She was aware of the basics when it came to X-Man's abilities more than she was aware of what they looked like, but she knew that would come closer to when the time got closer and that was because she was meant to be sent in on the second time Colonel Stryker sent in Weapon X. Her order would have been to kill the X-Man. But that order never came and she was now here. Knowing that it was the X-Men who brought her here and that everyone she met so far was in fact an X-Man. Little about Doctor Hank McCoy was known though, so X-23 in turn didn't exactly know much about him and that helped in her not knowing that it was the X-Men who brought her here rather than soldiers on orders. The same went for Nightcrawler.

"You heard the lady." She heard Victor Creed say, a cruel sneer cross his features. It was worse than the sneers she got from doctors. It concerned her for some reason and she didn't know if it was for herself or for Scott Summers who now tensed and unfolded his arms. Ready to defend himself if need be. The situation was deteriorating.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles found himself shooting at faceless shoulders who tried to cross 'No Man's Land' alongside Patch until an explosion happened about six feet from where they were standing. And for a second he heard the worried exclamation of 'Jimmy' somewhere. Victor Creed's voice, it sounded human and worried for his sibling. Charles opened his eyes and found himself laying flat on a floor in a cabin. Frowning slightly this was why he didn't always like fighting against things in people's minds sometimes. This happened when he had to help Erik with some horrible memories from the camp, Auschwitz and Shaw.

Standing up Charles noticed that it was such a beautiful and inviting home. The emotions he felt here echoed it, which did help put Charles at ease. He didn't realize how tense he was. Walking around Charles could feel the love Logan had for someone here wrapped up with the betrayed hurt he most have felt when it came to his sibling. Yes, Charles was well-aware of Africa. Victor's mind helped him with that piece of the puzzle.

Charles was looking at pictures when a feminine voice caught his attention, but she wasn't speaking to him,  
"Why is the moon so lonely?" Charles turned around and saw Logan sitting on the couch and a woman holding a beer. They didn't notice Charles so he was free to watch when it dawned on him instantly. These weren't projections, this was a memory.

"Because she used to have a lover." The woman's voice said when Logan asked her why. Charles was interested to listen to this story so he too simply stood by and silently hoped that this won't end in sex. He didn't want to watch that, he gets enough of that from wet dreams and fantasies from hormonal teenagers and his own young life style back before the X-Man.

Charles focused more on the memory and noticed they were slightly ahead of where they were as she explained,  
"His name was Kuekuatsu and they lived in the spirit world together."

"Oh, this is a true story." Came Logan's taunt, but it did little to stop her. She was obviously used to his little comments, but Charles noticed the gentleness Logan had for her.

"Mm-hm. And every night, they would wander the skies together. But, one of the other spirits was jealous. Trickster wanted the Moon for himself. So he told Kuekuatsu that the Moon had asked for flowers; he told him to come to our world and pick her some wild roses. But Kuekuatsu didn't know that once you leave the spirit world, you can never go back. And every night, he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name. But... he can never touch her again." Her story seemed to strike a cord with Charles, it was a sad story but there was something touching about it. The way she said it.

"Wow. Koo-koo-ka-choo got screwed." And with that Logan nearly shattered the tenderness of the situation, but Charles seemed to expect that.

"Kuekuatsu… It means the Wolverine." Charles heard before a growling snarl caught his attention outside the door. He didn't even get the chance to really think about the story that now explains why Logan had the mutant name Wolverine. Frowning Charles knew by feeling alone that he was going to be leaving this memory and possibly meeting another projection soon.

Steeling himself he walked towards the door and exited the building and leaving one of the happiest memories Logan had behind. He silently willed Logan to hold on to that memory. Even though Charles knew that it would be up to Logan to hold on to it. Looking around Charles didn't see anything not even the cabin. Just darkness that surrounded the small snowy area he stood in. This wasn't right. Not even a landscape plucked out of Logan's memory.

"You shouldn't be here." A young voice caught his attention as he spun around to see young James Howlett standing nervously like he was expecting something to jump out and attack him.

"Why not." Charles asked kindly, trying to alleviate the boy's anxiety. He didn't feel as shattered as before. But there was something in him that wasn't as innocent before. Tainted somehow.

"He'll hurt you bad." James answered, gripping his red housecoat in a scared manner.

"Who?" Charles asked, knowing that the answer was going to be bad. But he had to push forward, always forward. Charles didn't know why he kept feeling like he had to run and not stop. To keep going and not rest. Like he wasn't allowed to or didn't know how to.

"Him… Get out! Run!" Young James loudly warned and took off into the darkness as fear drove him faster. A loud growling came from behind him and the heart stopping sound of snikt echoing out into the darkness. Charles turned around to see none other then Weapon X, he looked exactly the same way he did when he was sent to attack the mansion. Charles's heart nearly stopped.

Teeth were bared, claws gleaming and Charles could spot his own fear in the red glass that reminded him a little bit of Scott's visor. A step forward, Charles stepped one back. Claws were angled upwards towards him. Charles could nearly see his reflection in those claws. It was something that haunted him, but he could never let Logan know that. He didn't want to burden the man further.

"Logan…" Charles said, knowing it was pointless as those claws snapped upwards towards him. Pain! He could feel pain in his chest and noticed that there was an X carved right into his chest. The only reason Charles wasn't impaled on those claws was all thanks to the wires he tripped backwards on. The room he was in was a laboratory you were closer to finding in Frankenstein movies.

He knew where this was though! This was where Logan lost his humanity! Weapon X let out a grim savage grin as he lunged towards the fallen professor. Charles could sense the glee from the man, he was happy to put some of the hurt Weapon X went through onto everyone else. And in this case onto Charles. It was enough to jerk Charles out of Logan's mind altogether.

The first thing Charles noticed was that there was a lot of blood.


	17. Chapter 17

Hank really didn't know what to expect when he was mentally alerted to the situation within the room. But his own instincts told him that there was no time to dawdle and the second those stainless doors slide open he was proven right! There was a lot of blood and the noise of the snarling and snapping from Logan caused Peter to nearly jump off the bed in case he was needed Jean, however, persuaded him otherwise. Barely.

But it wasn't the noise that really caught his attention was the blood. There was so much blood! Covering Logan's wrists where the restraints were starting to cut into his skin repeatedly as he struggled. That unfortunately was to be expected, the angrier the man got the more he fussed against any form of control against him. It was in the man's nature even when he was nothing more than a weapon.

He didn't, however, expect to see blood coming from the Professor's chest! It was extremely rare that he saw the man badly hurt like that and from going into someone's mind. In fact, it shouldn't be possible! No matter how old or how strong the mind Charles went into was. It just shouldn't be possible!

"Professor!" Hank snapped worriedly as he rushed to the man's side ignoring the hateful glares he was getting from a very angry Weapon X. Putting him back in the cell was going to be hard. Though right now, Hank couldn't stop himself or his instincts he glared and snarled right back at Logan. His logical side told him that Logan wouldn't have done this; this was an unfortunate and obviously bloody mistake. But the side of him that caused him to glare and snarl right back at the struggling man wasn't logical as much as it was instinctive. Not to the extremes Logan probably dealt with at times. But close.

"Hank. It's not Logan's fault, there probably isn't wounds just my mind believing that there is. It is possible to bleed through pores and to bruise. That I believe is all this is. Hank!" Charles said persistently, catching Hank's attention.

"I will… Jean! Could you get in here and help me tend to the Professor if you will." Hank called out, though a slight snarl still made it in his voice. She did so, hurriedly and gasping lightly at the sight before her. But the doctor side of her quickly went into motion as she made it to the Professor's side.

"Hank, you know the Professor is right. If you believe it in your mind, no matter how unlikely it is. It can happen." Jean said softly, but she too was psychic and probably could sense Hank's anger.

"I know." Hank ground out as he let her tend to the Professor. Hank, however, had to get a rather uncooperative Logan back into his cell. That wasn't going to be easy. But first, they had to remove the helmet Logan's head. Hank due to having a healing factor got the honors. He moved and allowed Jean to pass with the Professor who was holding his chest still.

Hank looked down at the struggling Logan who only paused every now and again to try to catch a look at Hank. Almost like he was expecting something to happen or be done. Perhaps a reprisal? Is that what you expect? Hank thought as he removed the helmet barely dodging an angry bite when his hand drew too close. Hank paused for a moment in what he was doing, his own mood was worse for wear, and his instincts did in fact want to punish the man for what he did. But that wasn't what Hank was; he wasn't someone who punished someone for doing something in a moment of insanity. And that was in a sense what Logan was as sad as it, was. He was insane. Made so by other people who took the hypocritical oath and government officials.

Taking a deep breath Hank released the restraints on the wheels keeping the chair in place.

"I am terribly sorry, I truly did wish that this session would have helped you." Hank said calmly as he took the handles in the back of the restraining wheelchair and backed out of the room. Looking over at the Professor he did in fact have bruises and was covered with blood. The mind truly was a powerful tool. There was no struggling coming from the wheelchair causing Hank to look down noticing the man was looking towards the Professor as well.

Guilty perhaps? Hank thought to himself, but he couldn't be sure and a small part of him did in fact doubt that to be the reason.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X could barely catch his breath half the time between all the snarling and growling he has done and is doing. He couldn't understand fully what happened to him in that room. What they did to him. What they were trying to do to him? Weapon X couldn't fully understand what they were talking about, something to do with a mind. His mind, the bald guys mind? Weapon X didn't really like bald guys they tended to bring bad news. Always did. Though he liked uniforms even less. People in them always equal hurt.

As he was being pushed away from that room. Relief? Did he feel that? Could he feel that? How come he even knew what that emotion even was? Something felt different in his mind, like something was moved around and touched? Not that Weapon X could remember what that felt like, his skull was adamantium and it was extremely rare that his mind was even threatened by scientists ready to dig whatever they could get their greasy paws onto. But it felt weird.

What did the bald guy even do?

Weapon X managed to look in the general direction the bald man was, seated out of the wheelchair like his, but without restraints. But his legs weren't moving; Weapon X faintly remembered when he attacked the man. He didn't kick or anything. Weapon X sneered, and his sneer grew more mocking when he noticed the mark left on the man's chest. Weapon X didn't know how, but he knew he somehow caused that. Somehow.

His gut clenched though, Weapon X didn't understand why and didn't think much of it. Why should he? This was what he was meant for?

And the handler pushing him, Weapon X could smell the anger coming from him. The fury. Weapon X was shocked when he didn't feel any punishing blow come his way though, was this man stupid or still didn't understand the ropes around faculties. Or whatever this place was. The bald man he was sent to attack; now sitting on the laboratory bed didn't make sense?

Training?

If that's the cause where was the Colonel then? The one who ran this whole thing? The one who was in most ways, Weapon X's master? Weapon X couldn't figure things out, too many mixed signals and too many close calls and the people who never seemed to make things clear. Always angry, but never lashing out at him, stuttering and fearful, kind and firm? He couldn't make sense of it, couldn't even figure out where to start.

He did however understand fully that he didn't trust any of them.

Halfway towards the door, it opened as the man with claws entered angrily, followed by X-23 who seemed to be conflicting with her emotions somehow. Another person entered as well holding his mouth while blood was coming out of it. He was also held by the collar by the man with claws. The man with claws always seemed to be angry whenever Weapon X saw him.

The last time was while Weapon X was in his cell, too many different signals to truly make sense of and behavior that didn't really seem right somehow. It didn't fit the man at all, Weapon X didn't know how he knew that, but he knew that the behavior he shown was out of place. Somehow.

But right now, all Weapon X could really figure out about the clawed man was that he looked beyond pissed. Claws lengthening as the clawed man glared at everyone in the room. He didn't look at Weapon X though. The loud growl coming from him managed to even catch X-23's attention as she took a few strategic steps away from him and stood in a defensive position. She kept looking at Weapon X though, like she was trying to figure something out.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Getting past the golden boy of Xavier wasn't as easy as Victor would have hoped it would be. Victor could easily see the amount of damage done to the hallway and recreation area that doubled as a study area close to Xavier's main classroom. The wall was missing. Not to mention the golden boy could throw a pretty good punch too! The blue elf stunk the place up with his teleportation smoke and was busy tending to the clone and getting her to stand down before she even reacted, teleporting in front of her when he needed to in order to hold her attention. But the girl didn't think for herself so she didn't really react unless she had an order to do so. But her considering something unacceptable clearly shown that she wasn't as mindless as Victor previously thought she was.

Not to mention the fact that the elf now laid unconscious and the girl panting, her body trembling lightly as though she was fighting within herself on what to do next. To kill or not to kill, the age old question Victor's brother was tormented by. The girl truly was a clone of him. Victor answered that one for her as he connected a punch with the golden boy's face causing him to spurt blood from a split lip and bleeding nose.

Victor licked the blood off his knuckles even though the taste of the blood wasn't as appetizing as some other's blood was. But for the effect it had on little Summers, it was worth it. Giving a cruel smile he grabbed the man's collar.

"Guess we're going down." Victor purred out as he pushed the down button and waited for the elevator to open up for them. Victor never liked the sound of elevator's, but was willing to admit that it was a handy thing to have at times.

The ride down wasn't eventful even as the trembling teenage clone stood next to him. He never listened to her aging process, but apparently she was being trained during the time the runt was free and whatever. He didn't care. The scent of blood was in the air, still fresh. But at this point Victor didn't react to it even as the doors slide open and Victor exited pulling Summers with him. Limping.

"You should have just let me come down here myself, would have saved you your lip and your nose." Victor taunted as he followed his brother's scent noting that the blue Muppet's scent went that way too. And the metal kid's scent went in that direction as well. The clone looked towards the area where her cell was located before following him, not that he cared about that. Why should he? She was nothing more than just a clone.

Victor practically dragged Summers with him down the hall forcing the man to fight against the hold enough to stay up on his own feet. Victor wasn't in a bad mood considering everything. However, that all changed the second he entered the room he smelt that they took Jimmy to. Now, seeing him in this room wasn't really what got him angry.

It was the state! Not only was his brother fully restrained, he was bloody as well. Struggling against those restraints! What did they do to him? And above all else, what did they dare to do to Jimmy without Victor's permission! Victor felt his claws lengthen and ignoring how Summers winced at feeling pricks from Victor's claws. Letting go of the man he practically shoved him aside.

From here he could see that Xavier was injured as well, but not enough in Victor's opinion. Surely he had a hand in this! Snarling slightly Victor glared at anything with a pulse aside from Jimmy. He barely looked at him. Couldn't stand to look at him, the weapon he was and the lack of recognition. Not to mention the state he was in. And that very human reaction only served to anger Victor further.

He could feel the animal in him claw its way forward, despite the fact that he got his glow not too long ago. This cancelled it out, this unwanted and caught in the act situation.

"Someone better give me a damn good explanation fer this…" Victor snarled before threatening them with a darker purred tone that spoke only dark truths,  
"Or everyone in this room will lose a few pints or more. And believe me I'm quite capable of it." Victor looked at everyone in the room daringly, he could hear the heartbeats of everyone and some of them picked up speed, but not quite in fear yet. He knew the clone spaced herself from him, but that was unimportant to Victor. What she did was no concern of his, stand close or move away. He didn't care.


	18. Chapter 18

To X-23 the state she saw Weapon X in was normal; it was something she saw many times since he was brought to the same facility as she was. And she saw him in worse states than this. X-23 was numb to it you could say. But the people here, the ones she has met told her differently and kept telling her differently. They weren't here to be experimented on. That Weapon X and X-23 were in fact not weapons at all. But people. All of that made her confused to say the least; she never learned how to deal with what they were implying. After all she was used to being cut open, and put through tests and missions. It was normal.

But to see what looks to be the opposite happening to Weapon X, then what they were repeating to her every chance they received. It created conflict she couldn't handle, she couldn't begin to understand why that conflict risen in her anyway. And to add Victor Creed the elder sibling of Weapon X into the mix with his own rage and emotions, just made things worse for her.

For the first time in her life, she didn't know what to do. How to react. This was even worse then when she was sent to kill Doctor Martin Stutter's family and she could not in fact kill the toddler. She was ordered to keep it from Doctor Sarah Kinney, her mother. X-23 failed to keep it secret; she failed that part of the mission.

What should she do?

Snarling from both Weapon X and Victor Creed drew her attention to them, and briefly towards the head of the building Charles Xavier. Professor, psychic mutation. The scent indicating trepidation spiked from a few of the people within the room as rage was clearly seen and detected. X-23 could also smell the stink of it. Every emotion, every person and every act had a scent to accompany it. Reading it was tricky at first, but once you learnt how it was a useful skill to have.

"Victor, you have…" Professor Charles Xavier started to say from the bed he was sitting on, incapable of moving far from it without his chair. Helpless, X-23 noted him to be helpless to being attacked where he was even with other mutants around him. The chances of them stopping a rage filled attack without harm coming to the Professor they were protecting was only around thirty percent.

"That ain't answerin' the question. I don't want yer excuses. I want an explanation so start talking." Victor Creed snarled out, leaving no room for argument. X-23 could tell they would be hard pressed to come up with a way to avoid accepting the situation they have created for themselves. She could tell they had only one option at this point, and that was to comply.

X-23 looked between the two as they exchanged words, her eyes traveled back to Weapon X who looked beyond angry and anxious. The room, the room must be doing it. The situation was not helping either. What should she do? What should she think?

What was the right course of action?

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Victor snarled angrily, his claws fully extended as far as he could make them go. So far, in fact he could nearly feel the effect it had, not a painful one, but it was one that caught his attention. It was rare for him to extend them to the point that they couldn't move outward anymore. They were still very usable and, despite the length they were, they would not be a hindrance in any way or form. In fact, it gives him extra range to cause extra damage internally.

"Well." Victor pushed impatiently; he could smell the amount of indecision on the clone. But that wasn't important. The clone was nothing to Victor. She wasn't family, despite having Jimmy's stolen DNA in her. Silence was his answer, it was painfully obvious that they were looking for excuses and explanations to the point it seemed like they were trying to pluck anything usable out of thin air.

Victor could feel his whole body tighten, every muscle ready to spring. He so badly wanted to allow his muscles to unwind quickly allowing him to pounce hard enough to shatter bones and knock the wind out of you. Tension was clearly felt in every inch of his body. He still couldn't look at the angry weapon in his brother's place. He still felt the lingering shame from his foolishly loss of control that had him sitting in his own mess like some nobody! He wasn't some nobody, he was Victor Creed better known as Sabretooth. He was feared. He was powerful! Not someone who did things like that.

A frustrated growl tore free from his throat.

"Answer the fuckin' question or everyone dies." Victor threatened as his feet widened and his hair seemed to bristle and his five senses were on high alert. Nobody could move or even breathe in this room without Victor knowing about it.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles wasn't a foolish man by nature, but this time he freely admitted to himself. He was being completely foolish. This wasn't the first time Victor had him thinking that he was in the same room as a tiger rather than a man. A few other times had him wondering when he exited the school and entered a cage at the zoo featuring a Bengal tiger. With his abilities, he could sense the animal instincts tickling the man's self-control. Soon it would snap free, soon they would have a fight on their hands.

And not to mention Laura was becoming increasingly agitated and confused. She too would no doubt react accordingly to the situation. If Charles had any hope to resolving this situation before it comes to pass, he would have to answer honestly. As honest as he could.

"Victor, if you want an explanation than you need to allow us to clean up the mess first. Then you and I will sit down and talk, about everything you want to know about what transpired here. Let us settle Logan down first. He's the main priority, agreed?" Charles reasoned, or at least tried to reason. At least Victor seemed to be thinking about it.

Charles noticed that Scott was located closer to him now, then he was to Victor. There was blood on his shirt from where Victor's claws pricked him. Those would no doubt sting as bad as cat scratches can at times.

"You have fifteen minutes to put settle 'im. Than you talk. But we ain't leavin' the room. Got that baldy." Victor snarled, it wasn't what Charles was hoping for. In fact, he was hoping that they could go back upstairs. Charles wasn't really fond of being near a room that reminded him how he failed to bring Logan out past Weapon X. But he had to take what he could get, and this was as much as Victor was going to allow him to have.

"Very well, Hank you could proceed if you will." Charles agreed, watching as Hank wanted to open his mouth to protest, but a soft nudge to his mind made him reconsider reluctantly as he pushed Logan from the room. Much to his unhidden surprise, young Laura seemed to hesitate for a moment before ultimately following Hank and Logan out of the room. She still felt highly confused, but she went nonetheless. Hopefully she won't force the situation that will end with her being in her cell as well. It would take a bit to get her comfortable enough to out and into the upper levels.

Charles made eye contact with the man, noting that light seemed to reflect like it would a cat. It happened too at night; the man's eyes seemed to glow like a cat's could. It was unsettling.

"Happy." Scott snapped at Victor, a sneer was instantly visible on the man's features revealing his fanged teeth.

"Ecstatic." Victor answered back, his voice dripping with sarcasm and unresolved anger.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X snarled angrily as he was pushed down the hall, he could hear a second person walking and he could faintly tell that it was X-23 who was following them. Why? Why was she walking this way? Was she being locked up again? Was she finished with whatever she had to do? As they entered the room with the two cells, both of which were still wide open and ready for use.

Being pushed right up to the entrance the restraints on the chair he was restrained to was being loosened and removed. Weapon X didn't move an inch. Waiting, he didn't know how or why he knew to wait. But he did. And the longer he went without moving the more anxious he was making the blue handler, X-23 stood off to the side. Why?

"Okay, are we doing this the easy way?" The blue handler asked, doubt was clearly heard to the point that even Weapon X understood it. Weapon X would have sneered if the words meant anything to him. But they didn't, so instead he just sat there glaring at the cage. The restraint on his arms was the last that had to go. The blue handler had to move to the side of Weapon X in order to take them off.

First the closest wrist was released. Weapon X slowly and subtly straightened his wrists out. Preparing himself. Whether or not his handler noticed was beyond Weapon X.

Then the second wrist was released from its restraint. That was when Weapon X struck out, slashing upwards at the handler and getting off the restraining chair all at once. A sting of betrayal seemed to settle in him. Weapon X didn't know why or how he could feel that way towards the blue handler. But he did, and he showed it through his rage. Forgetting about X-23's presence completely as he slashed at the blue handler as quick and as hard as he could.

The blue handler's expression morphed from shock and surprise to rage and frustration as he reacted according to how an animal should react. Somehow he knew this to be odd and rare for the blue handler, but Weapon X didn't care. With a roar the blue handler attacked him back. Weapon X wasn't expecting the amount of strength behind the first hit and it showed by how he was caught off guard.

His chest was being pounded on; his stomach felt bruised and was healing only to be bruised some more. Pain, everything was hurt. Weapon X curled his body underneath the assault, snarling all the while right back at the blue handler. His own claws sunk into the blue handler in rapid motion while he was being pounded on. The blue handler had claws as well; Weapon X felt those claws scratch deep gouges into his body at times.

Only faintly did he notice that he was being picked up and tossed against a metal wall. It hurts. Weapon X roared in rage as he tucked his feet beneath him and used that to push himself forward as he lunged towards the blue handler who was already lunging at him as well. Both of them roaring and snarling. Rage driven they kept attacking and exchanging blows.

Weapon X didn't know how long this exchange of savage blows lasted, time meant nothing. What did catch his attention as well as the blue handler was when two shorter claws sunk into the blue handler's side. X-23 attacked the blue handler as well. Why? She always had the order of stand aside when a fight between Weapon X and his handlers broke out. Why was she attacking the handler as well?

The blue handler's eyes seemed to become less angry, but still angry. With a hard push, Weapon X found himself propelled backwards until he hit the wall hearing a crack. It stunned him long enough to keep him slouched against the wall next to the knocked down restraining chair. Meanwhile X-23 dealt out her blows towards the handler until he managed to shove her into the cage she originally was and it automatically closed before she could reach the once open door.

That didn't stop Weapon X though as he lunged at the blue handler ignoring how his own body hurt, he didn't care. What he did care about was when he was pushed roughly into the cage by the blue handler and has it shut on his face. The blue handler seemed worried though when he looked Weapon X and then to X-23 who was snarling in her own cage.

Weapon X snarled angrily and lunged at the bars.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" The blue handler said, Weapon X could practically taste the regret the man seemed to have. It unsettled Weapon X, it wasn't natural for a handler to feel regret. Weapon X roared furiously as the blue handler walked backwards to the door, his regret stinking the room up. Blood was still left untended to and no doubt will have to be tended to later by someone else.

X-23 grew silent first, Weapon X kept pacing his cage snarling and lunging at the bars that had a barely noticeable bend in one of the bars from Weapon X lunging at it so much. His own bruised body healing steadily enough. Ready for him to use fully again, whenever he was put to use that is.


	19. Chapter 19

X-23 knew full well that she disobeyed her standing orders. As she sat leaning against the impenetrable wall between her cage and Weapon X's cage she couldn't help, but reflect on that. And debate whether or not Doctor Hank McCoy was a handler at all? He was a mutant. That much was obvious due to his physical mutation. His scent also gave him away. Without much thought X-23 brought her knees up to her chest as she rested her chin on them. Her own hair covered her face enough to hide her blank expression.

She was still stained with blood. So was Weapon X. That was the normal part of this situation. The rest of it concerning herself, not so much.

Why did she attack the blue Doctor who seemed to be doubling as a handler? Why did she disobey? She failed. But why did something so small whispered to her that she didn't fail for the reason she thought. The bars rattled, Weapon X was still raging. Closing her eyes tightly she remembered a memory she had before Weapon X was brought to the same facility as she was.

_The training session was a complete success. She killed the bear within three minutes, a minute and fifty two seconds longer than Weapon X's time. But her handlers and the doctors would deem it to be a failure, too slow. She also failed to stay within the hologram parameters of Weapon X. So while they ran their scans of how things went she remained still in the training room staring at the hologram of Weapon X._

_If she was a child, she would think that he was staring at her. Knowing she was here, right here._

_She tried to reach out, as a child would and take his hand, but he was only a hologram so her hand hovered within the hologram of his hand. She knew that he was like her, a weapon. She knew that he was where she came from, her DNA was taken from him and her Mother made her with it. A clone. A weapon. Not a child._

_But if she was, what would he be to her?_

_"X-23, report to the exit doors to be retrieved and taken back to your cell. We will speak with you later to inform you of how you failed." Doctor Rice's voice as taunting as ever came through a speaker. She did nothing as she dropped her hand to her side and turned away from the fading hologram and made her way to the four handlers waiting for her._

Was the same reason she attacked Doctor Hank McCoy the same reason she reached out to a hologram? Was that even possible? X-23 looked towards the door for a moment, she saw a trail of blood stopping at the closed doors. There was more rattling of the bars as a heavy body collided with them. Weapon X was really riled up today. Was it because of the blood he still smelt? Or was it because he was angry at being restrained and put back into his cage? Or both?

Doctor Hank McCoy was strong; physically he was a force to deal with. She noted that, despite the aggression he showed towards Weapon X he was trying and failing to hold back. Weapon X was damaged, possibly internal injuries that were possibly still healing. It was seeing him being pounded on like he was that seemed to cause her to frown out of nowhere.

Why?

Why did that gain a reaction out of her? It was normal for handlers and Doctors to mistreat them. Yet, up to now she and Weapon X weren't treated cruelly. Were things going to go back to normal now? She didn't know how, but she doubted that. Words she read, but didn't fully comprehend yet floated back to her.

_We'll start a new life…_

_…be a family…_

_…So much more I want to tell you…_

_…no matter what may come you are a child…_

_…not a weapon…_

_…my child…_

_…my daughter and I love you…_

Not a weapon. Those words, they seem so hollow somehow. In some way. But that had no meaning to what she just did not too long ago. The blood was only starting to dry and flake on her hands and arms. She disobeyed a long lasting order to not interfere when Weapon X was being handled and if he gets into a fight with his handlers. So then, why did she? That was the question she kept coming back to.

The memory of her trying to hold the hand of a hologram. The words that she just read not to long ago from the letter given to her by her mother. Her mother's scent was still on the paper. What did it mean to her? What did it mean to what she was?

 _'Why did you attack Hank?'_ a voice rang out in her mind, she instantly recognized it as the psychic Professor Charles Xavier. She got to her knees and shifted so she could look right into the camera. This wasn't normal for her, but she could adapt. And she did. The voice wasn't angry.

"I…" She said out loud, suddenly feeling very foolish, and she frowned lightly. She wasn't fond of emotions, especially hers. They got in her way, and left her conflicted. That was unacceptable for missions. So she did what she could to ignore and cancel it out of existence as best as she was able to. But no one ever allowed her to truly forget.

 _'You know why. What was Doctor Hank McCoy doing that got you to act? Think about that, did you like it or not? Is Weapon X important to you in anyway? Unfortunately, that is as much attention as I can spare Victor Creed is getting quite aggressive in this room at the moment.'_ The voice of the Professor, his voice calm and collected, possibly unchallenging and not in a reprimanding tone.

X-23 sat back down fully, facing forward and still against the wall. Incapable of moving far from it for some reason unknown to her.

She didn't know how to answer any of those questions that came literally out of no where.

But one thing she could answer. What Doctor Hank McCoy was doing, was attacking and defending himself against Weapon X. And did she like it? No she didn't like it for a reason she didn't fully understand. So her body reacted, every move instinctive and well versed in how to hurt and how to kill. She failed to understand those reasons that very well should have been easy for anyone to understand.

She popped one claw and held out her arm. A routine she went through so many times for as long as she could remember, it relieved her from her emotional tension.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

There were more then a few things Hank was ashamed of. His own appearance at times was one of those things, especially when he longed to go for a simple walk down the street and unable to due to his appearance. Another was the instincts that came with his appearance, funny how he didn't have those instincts and emotions as strongly beforehand. How fate seemed to deal its cruel fortune out.

Today he just added another thing to be ashamed of. He lost control and attacked a man who wasn't doing what he did out of freewill. Hank knew that Logan was a broken man, someone practically tampered with mentally to be a weapon. So he would naturally act the way he was. But that didn't stop Hank's emotional response to him when Logan attacked. And the memory of what happened with the Professor only seemed to make it easier for Hank to snap.

And naturally a fight broke out; Hank instinctively knew that he caused Logan plenty of damage. The man's skeleton was coated with the strongest metal known, adamantium. But his stomach was still unprotected as it was on anyone, and the sternum was bone. Hank heard that crack. Grimacing he couldn't imagine how that might have felt for the man who had unbreakable bones.

Gasping he finally collapsed on to the ground halfway to the infirmary. Panting out in pain he could tell he was soaking the cold floor with his own blood. Both Laura and Logan caused plenty of damage to him, healing factor or not. He had more than what his healing factor could tend to at the moment, it was busy dealing with internal injuries to deal with the bleeding and the outer injuries. Snarling angrily he forced himself to his knees and stripped himself of his lab coat and using that to stop the bleeding of one of the more serious outer injuries. Only doing it now because he had the time to stop and deal with injuries.

"Hank, this is certainly not your best day…" Hank growled out to himself as he tried to get to his feet, slipping slightly he used the wall to support himself. He felt guilty for the entire mess of a situation, and for having Laura locked up again. But he had no choice. He was certain of that, she attacked him and proved that for the moment she wasn't to be trusted on her own.

He didn't really remember a time when he was as badly injured as this, and he was glad for that. Finally, moving forward he noticed that his body started to show the common effects of blood-loss, as a doctor he recognized each and every change including the quickening of his heart in attempts to compensate for the loss. Cursing slightly he tried to go faster, logic slipping from him as the gravity of the situation became all to clear.

Unfortunately for Hank, the second the infirmary door came into focus he collapsed with everything going dark.

~ Nameless Security Guard ~

His family was promised compensation for this. All he had to do was let this guy, weird as he was in. Never before has he seen someone with skin so pale, or eyes as red as the clothes the blond haired man wore. Arethosetubesonhisface? He thought, in all of his ten years as a security guard he's never seen anything like that. He didn't even know if they were tubes at all. And the other metal he's spotted was odd as well.

Briefly he figured the man was a mutie, and as much as he loved his family he felt disgusted at the sight of a thing like that. It was only natural like his parents before him to despise such abominations he figured. Briefly he realized the man had a sadistic look to him and suddenly he started to feel sicker and sicker. The closer he got to the man, the worst he's ever felt.

Drawing his keys out and unlocking the gate he felt so weak until he collapsed on the ground. The man looked even crueler up close…

Then blackness overtook him…

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Omega Red stared at the prison's outer gate with sadistic glee shining through his abnormally colored eyes. Colonel Stryker true to his word took him straight to a prison where Omega Red could get his fill. A security guard approached the gate unlocking it, he probably couldn't understand why he suddenly felt deathly ill even as he collapsed on the ground gasping for air before his eyes rolled back and his last breath escaped him. That only made Omega Red's grin widen across his chalk-white complexion.

Casually remembering a tad bit random conversation between himself and the Colonel waiting a fair distance away as he strolled up to the high security prison.

_Omega Red wouldn't be able to tell you how much he loved being able to fly without security checks and stopping at certain cities and countries along the way unless fuel was required. But the problem with his own abilities was putting a damper on his good mood, hence, the reason he couldn't tell how much he was enjoying the easy ride. Across from him with enough leg room sat the American Colonel himself, as smug as ever. Omega Red could tolerate that though, he's dealt with more annoying people._

_And Omega Red knew he could finish this thing quickly if the American got too full of himself. Omega Red wouldn't have a problem in putting the smaller older looking man in place._

_"I hear Captain America vas found." Omega Red casually said, remembering that he read it in a newspaper not too long ago. Omega Red also heard of several other things happening, including something not quite human wielding a hammer. But he didn't care; his focus was on his own needs like the C-Sync as well as retrieval of Weapon X is of higher priority at the moment._

_"Yes, actually. Though the progression with him is sadly unknown to me SHEILD kept him closely contained, only a brief glimpse was seen of him before he was whisked away." Colonel Stryker replied. Omega Red nodded casually. Deemed it weak to allow the man to get out into public so easily, it was both weak and pathetic. Americans, they are growing soft. Omega Red thought to himself._

_"You disapprove." Colonel Stryker pointed out casually, folding his hands casually in front of him. Omega Red could see the tension in the man though; he was working on borrowed time no doubt._

_"Da. SHEILD should have better security involved, yes. The KGB vould not have made the same mistake." Omega Red casually said, knowing he would probably anger the more patriotic side of the man by saying something non-American was better as boldly as Omega Red has._

_"Possibly, but the Director of SHEILD as tactical as he could be he still is a very moral person at the core. He's willing to do what is necessary, but so long as it doesn't get too close to the delicate balance of right and wrong." Colonel Stryker explained casually. Omega Red could tell there was animosity between the two. Most likely SHEILD took some power and control away from Stryker and his programs in some form or another. Or dropped this part of the program. Whichever it was, it caused a lot of ill-will towards each other._

_"Fifteen minutes before we land." The pilot said over the speaker and both Omega Red and Stryker sat up straight doing up the seatbelts on autopilot._

_"Then you better be very careful, Colonel. You deal on the opposite side of his delicate balance, possibly too a point the Director of SHEILD vould consider a not so nice cage for you." Omega Red warned, he knew all too well that event the best of men could do the unthinkable when occasion calls for it. And the good Colonel was teetering on being safe and having what Omega Red said become reality._

_"I take it you wish to stop at the prison I informed you about two hours ago?" Colonel Stryker casually said, changing the subject tensely._

_"Da." Omega Red confirmed._

{This will be fun.} Omega Red said to himself in a pleasant tone as he approached the first set of doors, coils free already. A cruel grin twisted his features as he saw several security guards close to him and breathing the same air as Omega Red drop dead. Omega Red had control on how much they took in, and how quickly they died. Mostly he liked hands on experiences, but this was just as good.


	20. Chapter 20

It was an understatement to say that Victor was pissed off, in fact that would be the kind way of putting it. There was little holding him in place rather than simply lunging at the crippled fool and tearing him apart slowly and very painfully. And Victor knew by experience on how to drag things out so his victims would feel every bit of what's happening to them until Victor decides enough was enough.

And right now, all he could picture was the room splashed with warm blood. But, he couldn't let himself go. Why? The reason was most likely pacing and thrashing in his cage at the moment. That was the only thing keeping the foolish bags of flesh in this room alive. Especially after Mr. Cripple's screw up.

"Victor…" Charles started; Victor noted his face was nearly expressionless as he fought to save face obviously.

"Explanation instead of a half assed apology, cause let's face it. You fucked up, and I'm only an inch away from killin' ya where you sit." Victor snarled out, not even giving them a chance to let that sink in as he added,  
"And believe me, Xavier. I'm very good at what I do. An' unlike my brother. I enjoy it." Victor let out a cruel sneer as that bit of information sunk in with the threat. Let their imagination fill in the rest, it always served Victor best when people did that. Just like threats sometimes work better than the act itself.

"Very well Victor, what I did was unforgivable. I admit that fully, it is farther in the grey area of my personal morals when it comes to someone's mind as it was. But my intentions, despite how flawed they are, were good. I intended on finding the dominant personality in a sense that is in essence Logan. His memories were not my focus as much as getting Logan back under the control of himself rather than the mind-frame you in fact are dealing with now. Once in, I came face-to-face with different projections in a sense of different aspects of Logan. Each with a different standing in life, each with a different appearance and each with a different name. James Howlett, Patch. And finally least, but not last Weapon X who is in fact tied in with that animal part a feral mutant has to deal with. But it wasn't always like that, Weapon X is a mutilated beaten down and more aggressive version of what it should have been.

Each projection had a different meaning; the most damaged of them all was in fact the boy. James Howlett who doubled as the innocence Logan used to have. An innocence that was damaged over time throughout every war and every killing he had to do. In a sense also beaten down by you Victor because of your need to have him embrace that animal. And so, little James is afraid of Weapon X. That animal. And it is that fear that has him fighting a battle he should not have had to fight in the first place, not alone anyway. Logan the veteran from the Civil wars. Probably the most stable the man has ever been in his life, he spoke and felt very fond of you Victor. Patch the veteran from World War One, not so stable anymore. But still man enough to survive in society. Still stable enough to contribute to that society if he so chooses. As shown in his days spent with you up North in mining.

Weapon X however, was the part of his mind that I found concerned me the most. Over time the rest of the damage through the wars and time could have scared over. But not now, not with Weapon X being a big contribution to who he is at the moment. It is Weapon X that pushed me out of the very old and very damaged mind… I did not find Logan the X-Man or who he was before he lost his memories altogether around twenty years ago. Give or take." Charles explained, and Victor snarled for it.

If he understood half of what the talkative cripple said, it meant that Jimmy wasn't found and that he couldn't be fixed with mind tricks and tinkering. That left little to no other options. So then, why was Victor even bothering?

"I didn't say there wasn't any hope or any reason to give up on him. It's all there, I wouldn't have spoken with any projections or saw a memory on how the mutant name Wolverine came to exist otherwise. I'm simply saying is that he's too damaged and too hurt right now to come out of the state, the mindset that he's in." Charles added, most likely sensing the doubt Victor was starting to have to deal with. Victor's lip curled angrily.

"So you're saying that not snapping out of his current mindset is a cry of help Professor." Jean asked, Victor sneered at her aggressively. He didn't like having people speak about what is his family business. Especially when it was done so openly as though they had a right to it.

"In a sense, yes." Charles agreed, ignoring Victor's sneer. Did they not understand that they had no right to speak of things so openly like this! Did they not know common sense?

"Enough!" Victor snapped loudly, his claws lengthened and cutting deep gouges in his palm causing two pools of blood to start forming on either side of him. They had no right! None! Adding in a snarl,  
"Stop yer talking 'bout this like it's a fucking school project." With that Victor turned and headed towards the door with a lot of self-control, he so badly wanted to kill them and do worse to the frails of his choosing. He could practically taste their blood. So they had to cut him a break when he gave them a once in a lifetime gift of living, despite their screw ups. It would be the only time.

Lingering at the doors to the infirmary that were now open Victor looked over his shoulder at all four of them,  
"If you ever make a mistake like this one again…" Victor broke off with a cruel grin and chuckle to go with it. All of it a dark promise of things worse then death happening to them before he mercifully granted them the gift of death. What fun they could have should that happen.

He didn't bother tell them about the down mutant in the hallway bleeding to death. Instead, he allowed Charles to figure it out and send the metal boy, four eyes and the frail out to fetch him. Victor ignored all of them as he walked towards the room that had the two cages. Finding them both occupied with annoyance. His brother was still pacing the cage angrily in between slamming up against the bars in attempts to break them. Victor's presence was the only thing that quieted things down.

Victor glowered towards the second cage, the one with the lowly clone sitting against a wall. Disgusting creature. Opening the door he stomped into it.

She was already standing and unsure of what Victor's plans were. Her claws were out, but Victor didn't give the little clone a chance to decide to use them. Yet. Instead, he caught her wrist in a tight hold and practically dragged her with him.

She only fought him half way towards the door. Apparently she had a change of hearts and didn't want to leave Weapon X behind. Or at least that's how it seemed. Victor snarled and growled loudly when he felt her claws slice into his flesh. His grip on her arm and the fact that he wasn't dealing with two angry feral weapons at once made things easier. Sort of.

She still fought him like a hellcat. It didn't work as he practically threw her out of the room and closed the doors behind her so she couldn't come back in even if she tried. Those doors were thicker than her claws. Even Jimmy's claws couldn't reach all the way through.

Victor heard murmured voices, someone talking to her and pulling her away. Good riddance.

Steeling himself he approached the cage his brother was held in. He was going to do this a different way, a way Weapon X would understand. Then, maybe just maybe he would be able to have a word or two with his brother.

Victor hated how badly he hoped for that, and he will let that hatred fuel him on.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X watched as the clawed man enter X-23's cage alone and literally dragged her out. No handler would do such a thing without proper restraints. This guy had a lot to learn. Instead, he did things by hand and literally fought with her to get her out of the room. She didn't make it easy, and her small size probably caused him enough of a problem.

And the clawed man had the marks to prove that more often than not, X-23 sunk her own claws into him. And the man didn't look happy for it either, not that it helped in the end. X-23 still ended up out of this room. Weapon X wanted him dead. Maybe then things could go back to normal rather than how upside down things were at the moment.

He understood the torture the bald one put him through enough. It was to break him; it must have been to break him. Well Weapon X isn't broken; he's just as savage and deadly as before. He doesn't obey easily; it's not in his nature. He doesn't want to, they have to make him obey and that was where most of the struggle and diversion from his situation came from. Somehow. Maybe.

Weapon X didn't know and he didn't care either.

Things were how they were. Why should he think about them? Thinking is for men and doctors and handlers. Not for animal weapons like himself. And that was what he was; it was what he always was. It was in his nature just as much as his lack of ability to be controlled complete. After all you couldn't control a wolf completely, or a tiger and a bear. And his handlers still used them for things.

So Weapon X fell into that category.

The clawed man, who forced her to leave approached the cage and stood in front of it just outside his arm range. Weapon X knew he wouldn't be able to reach him; the red line on the ground was as far as Weapon X could reach with his claws extended. Weapon X's eyes narrowed and a throaty growl worked its way up. A challenge, but he gained no response to it. In fact, the clawed man just stood there staring at him for a good five minute's. Looking for something.

Was he going to yell meaningless words?

Was he going to dirty himself again?

What was he going to do?

Weapon X watched him back, seeing a nearly familiar anger swell in the clawed man's cold eyes. Only there was something more hurt and fierce in his anger compared to his normal handler's anger and sadistic glee that was directed at Weapon X whenever something happened or whenever his handlers simply felt like it. Taking care of boredom at Weapon X's expense. What managed to get this man so angry all of a sudden.

"Okay, Weapon X. We'll do this your way fer once. But let me tell you this, you won't win this scrap. Do you want to know why?" The clawed man spoke, coldly and confidently. Weapon X got the feeling that the man probably had reason to be confident. Weapon X couldn't wait. Taking deep intakes of breath through his nose, he caught the scent of the man.

No fear. There was anger. There was hatred. Something else Weapon X couldn't recognize as well as sadness.

"Don't you even want to know why? Come on, Weapon X. I know ya got a voice. Use it. Ask me why? Come on. Ask. Me. Why." The clawed man taunted, Weapon X snarled loudly. He was being told to speak, Weapon X doesn't speak. He never spoke. But the clawed man gave an order, almost a robotic temptation pulled at him to obey. Weapon X growled angrily with an unforgiving sound.

Why. The clawed man wanted him to ask why. Why? Why? Why? Why what? Weapon X paced in his cage a couple of times before stopping and glaring angrily at the clawed man with a smirk showing off fangs of an animal. Weapon X bared his own teeth.

"No? Okay, then I'll tell ya. It's cause I'm the older one, I'm the alpha male and the one who'll knock ya on that ass o' yours." The clawed man said, obviously not going to wait for Weapon X to say the words he didn't want to, but was nearly compelled to say. Only moments away from trying to force those words out without much skill in using words like his handlers could.

What drew his attention though was that the man approached a panel and pulled it off the wall. Doing something, switching colorful wires and things all before forcing the panel back onto the wall. Was he even allowed to do that? Weapon X never saw his handlers do that before. The next thing that happened was that the cage doors slammed open.

Freedom, but it was at a cost. He was still trapped with his current clawed handler whose claws were now lengthening into sharper looking weapons.

Weapon X grinned savagely as he stepped out of the cage. He understood now, the handler wanted a fight. Well, he had one coming and Weapon X was going to leave nothing more than a bloody smear. The clawed man let out a grin of his own, all teeth and savageness. It was good enough to match Weapon X's own savage grin. Where did the doctors and directors find this guy? Maybe they did something right for once.

Weapon X let out a roar, matched by the clawed man's own roar. The room wasn't that big, but it was enough for them to have some room to lunge with room to recoil and defend yourself. Not that Weapon X knew how to do that, he just kept going forward. There was only going forward, not stopping, not resting and no mercy whatsoever. That was all he could do. Keep going forward.

So that was what Weapon X did. And apparently that's what the clawed man did as well.


	21. Chapter 21

Victor Creed was a man of many talents. And was a man with many crimes to his name, all done so willingly and as cruelly as he could think of. What most didn't know and didn't care to realize that his first honest talent many years ago and many wars ago, was that of being an older brother. He was a good one. He protected his younger sibling and held him when the boy cried those tears of his even though Victor told him many times that real men don't cry. At least that was what Victor was taught by their drunken no good father. Victor took hits for his brother, went hungry for his brother and nearly died many winters over for his brother.

Victor sacrificed everything so his little brother could have one more moment of peace, one moment of happiness. Victor even sacrificed his own humanity for him.

And then, Jimmy left him! Broke their pack, their bond and whatever friendship they forged through childhood interactions back at an Estate Victor would have wanted to simply forget about altogether. Of course his memories wouldn't allow him to forget so easily. So Victor gave one more sacrifice, but this time for Victor's own cruel intentions. Victor sacrificed what his brother was to him.

And that worked out fine for around twenty years or so. Victor didn't have to worry about the small shadow the Howlett name caused, the memories or what a small part of Jimmy considers to be home.

But now everything was so screwed up. Victor had to revive that old sacrificed bond, try to help his brother only to fail horribly. And that led him to this sorry excuse of a school with so-called secret basements that every government probably knew about. And it led to, Weapon X and his current situation. And the physical pain Victor had to deal with, but the physical pain didn't cut half as badly as the emotional ones did.

And, despite the fact that he planned and had every intention of using his hatred for everything that has happened and hatred caused by Jimmy against Weapon X. He couldn't. Victor couldn't understand why, but he couldn't make himself rage hard enough. Get angry enough to slip into that state where it didn't matter who he was beating just as long as he was hurting something. That inability and weakness caused him to be stuck in a tight spot.

Victor gasped painfully as he was literally forced flat against the wall behind him, his brother wasn't this savage. No this was purely Weapon X. Victor ended up getting chunks torn from his arms and leg from Weapon X literally biting him. And now, Victor felt blood run freely as three sharp adamantium laced claws were buried in his stomach and turning ever so slightly. The other set of claws was buried deep in his left shoulder and into the wall. Victor knew that because his hearing picked up that little fact as the tips of the claws pierced the wall.

Jimmy would have at least looked undignified and disgusted with this sort of fight. And maybe even some glee, but never enough to actually change anything.

Weapon X on the other hand looked absolutely delighted as well as completely feral.

Victor's lip curled in disgust. He always told his brother that he should embrace that other side. But this wasn't it, and if the bald headed screw up was right this was the result of government tinkering and the wars and Victor himself. Why couldn't it be more like Victors? It wouldn't have been so screwed up and mindless! They were literally face-to-face, it gave Victor a moment to look into a stranger's familiar eyes and saw nothing recognizable.

Victor could still remember a bittersweet time when they didn't fight, when he didn't find his brothers claws buried in Victor's flesh. Almost like it was only yesterday.

_Victor sniffed, he hated crying. It made him feel weak and pathetic, just like his father said he was. It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair!_

_"Victor? Guess what I'm allowed out…" A joyfully childish voice rang out, loud clumsy footsteps halted though when the young petite frail son of the Howlett's stopped dead in his tracks._

_Victor cursed. Wiping away stray tears angrily. He didn't want to be seen like this!_

_"Are you okay?" Young James asked, coming closer cautiously and with concern written all over his face._

_"Of course I'm okay! You think I'd be crying like some girl. I just… I just…" Victor ended up breaking down again. He hated this! Why did his father have to be so mean when he was drunk, which he usually was. Victor's fingers and mouth still hurt. Victor covered his eyes and tried to collect himself when he felt two smaller arms circle around his shoulders in an awkward hug. No one has ever hugged him before so he stiffened._

_"It's okay Victor… It'll be okay, you'll see. I promise that it'll be okay." Young James naively said. Victor doubted it, the boy was just five years old and knew next to nothing. But still, it felt nice. To be promised something, and part of him believed that James was right. After all, James never lied to him or hurt him in any way. So maybe, just maybe things will be fine._

But James lied! Nothing was okay, everything got worse and worse and worse until nothing was right. They grew up; James murdered their father and the wars and Stryker. Now Weapon X. Nothing was okay. Nothing will be okay! James was a stupid little boy who knew nothing, but childish useless dreams filled with nothing Victor knew or understood.

And now…

Now…

Victor snarled angrily, it wasn't fair! He shouldn't have to be dealing with this sort of shit; the basic plan was to beat Weapon X down. Make the weapon go away, then go back to how things used to be in his own life as an assassin for hire. Curling his hands around Weapon X's wrists Victor tugged the claws free and dodged the head butt coming his way with an annoyed scowl. With a hard push, Weapon X back hard enough for the thing to hit the ground with a loud thud. It rolled away as Victor stood up straight and rolled his shoulders once, knocking away the tension as good as that action could.

_"It's okay Victor… It'll be okay… Promise…"_

_"…okay…"_

_"It'll be okay…"_

_"…Promise…"_

Lies! It was nothing but a pack of lies that Victor was so very foolish to hold on to, and it wasn't fair that it was those pack of lies that kept him going another day back when he was a child and under his father's tender loving care.

_"I promises…"_

Victor sneered angrily as edges of his vision started to blur and bleed red in that delightful way as the physical pain lessened enough for things to become clearer than it was through hurt and emotional pain. It was easier to see that he had to let go that this wasn't Jimmy or Logan or some sack of weak shit. This was an animal, it was a weapon. Victor had to think like this.

Think of this as another hit, another light to be put out and it was easier that way. And that was something Victor could excel at delightfully.

No not Victor.

"Ya ready, boy 'cause Sabretooth's comin' fer ya!" Sabretooth roared, claws lengthened and mindset shifting into a more feral state. Finally… Sabretooth thought with a dark purr that promised pain. A cruel grin broadened as claws lengthened in lethal curls even more than before.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

X-23 found herself sprawled on the ground, her body hurt with the extra force used to literally throw her out of the room and the fight she put up when she was forced out of the room. Ignoring the pain she stood up. She could hear a fight going on, Weapon X's roar and the clawed man. The clawed man had too many conflicting emotions, and none of them made sense. And given that X-23 could barely make out her own emotions half the time, it was next to impossible to understand.

She needed something. Something to help her. Or someone. But that wouldn't be Weapon X; he was incapable of helping her. Even though she so badly wanted to stay with him, she couldn't understand why fully. But she knew that she didn't want to leave him alone. She didn't want to leave him alone in the cages, he always hated being isolated. And he was always isolated and cut off from everything including time, sounds, smells and even sight when their handlers felt like taking that away too.

She remembered he put up more of a fuss then in comparison to trials and experimentations. Something about being alone never sat well with Weapon X, X-23 on the other hand had no problem being alone.

X-23 looked at the door for weaknesses. That feeling or instinct, whichever it was that she felt when it came to the order that would have ended a child's life came back. The one that had her spare the child while killing the toddler's parents as her mission told her to. It was what led her to manage to get a message to her mother, tell her mother what X-23 was ordered to do.

She lunged at the door, there were no weaknesses and the power that controlled the door was off. Her claws weren't long enough; she couldn't even see light from the other side. She kept cutting at it, kicking it and pulling her claw from her foot out with both hands. It hurt at times, but pain was unimportant so she ignored it. Kept lunging and kept failing.

When she realized that she wouldn't be able to cut through, she stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the hallway and due to her own lack of understanding of the desperation that was settling in her stomach, she cuts into her arm for a few minutes before settling on another course of action.

Assistance, she required assistance. Putting her claws on her feet away she walked steadily to the infirmary and entered. Professor Xavier was in his chair, the man known as Scott Summers was enraged if the discoloration in his face and the veins was any indication. Professor Xavier looked like he was crossed with showing no emotion and guilt. She may not understand emotion, but she was trained how to spot it.

The blue handler she attacked along with Weapon X was resting on a bed unconscious from his wounds being tended. The other two was sitting down on other beds and looking uncomfortable.

"I require assistance… Now." X-23 stated calmly as soon as she was aware of their attention was on her.

"What's the matter?" The angry one, Scott Summers asked as calmly as his anger obviously allowed him. He was efficient; X-23 could respect that for the most part. No one else spoke; Professor Xavier touched the temple on his head.

"It's Logan and Victor, they're fighting… Savagely." Professor Xavier stated for her. Everyone was on their feet. X-23 was on the look out for restraints, Weapon X wouldn't want to be restrained at the moment.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X was frustrated, the fight was going well. It was, he had the clawed handler up against the wall gasping in pain. All that anger that he swore he saw in the clawed handler was nothing more than a shallow weapon and wasn't used.

Or so Weapon X thought.

But somehow, up against the wall the handler was getting angry like all that anger from before came back and finally set fire to that familiar rage Weapon X feels in himself all the time, but this time it was like seeing that familiar rage as though he was the handler and this clawed handler was the animal to be observed. It was an odd feeling, one Weapon X never felt before. And will never feel again, he's going to kill this handler. Then, maybe things will go back to how they should be.

The cage was too nice.

The cage was too spacious.

The food was actually food and not Weapon X's usual supplements when he ate instead of having it tube fed after or during experimentations.

There was no mistreatment except for the instance with the mind machine the bald headed one used against Weapon X. But still, things were too nice and too civil here. Things weren't supposed to be that way; they never were before so why start now.

The clawed handler finally spoke since the fight started, saying words that had no meaning to him,  
"Ya ready, boy 'cause Sabretooth's comin' fer ya!"

Weapon X was about to sneer savagely at meaningless words when something stung inside him.

He felt… betrayed…

Weapon X couldn't explain it, but it was brief, but with it came rage and even though the brief feeling faded the rage remained. Weapon X let out an angry roar and lunged even more persistently, but so did his clawed handler 'Sabretooth'. They clashed in the middle of the room in a flurry of claws and teeth. The clawed handler 'Sabretooth' was even tougher to nail than before!

It seemed that with rage that the man felt his strength increased. Just like it did with Weapon X.

No matter.

Weapon X kept pushing forward, kept slashing and slicing and snapping his jaws hard in hopes to catch a part of his opponent. Hoping to kill him, and go back to the way things were. It wasn't working out that way though, Weapon X kept gaining injury after injury and from the lack of proper eating and sleeping that Weapon X is usually forced to do, Weapon X was starting to slow down. Not much, but from the looks of things the tide was turning.

Finally…

It was finally going back to how Weapon X was used to things being. At least then he wasn't being mocked with false niceties from handlers playing games. This handler was the one who was being the most honest with their roles. For the second time being in this place his gut seemed to sink.

He didn't know how or even when, but Weapon X found himself on his back defending himself from slashing hits. Growling and snarling up at the equally savage handler.


	22. Chapter 22

Scott was an efficient man, but failed one member of his team. The X-Men was created by Professor Charles Xavier to protect humans from the bad mutants and other situations that require a little extra power rather than just armies and SHIELD, cops and rescue teams. Scott knew the every response people would have towards situations. And as the leader it was Scott's job to look after everyone on his team, make sure they were sane and healthy. That they came back in one piece and with the missions they did at times coming back in one piece wasn't always a guaranteed thing.

He failed one member, Logan or also known as Wolverine. Why would he call himself the name of an animal when he hated being considered one, Scott doesn't understand. The man was gruff and rough around the edges. Dangerous. Back before Logan left, Scott would walk around the halls one more time before heading to bed and he would see Logan standing at a window or staring at him steadily and refused to break eye contact first. It was out of character for someone who often came across as loud and gruff to be so quiet and contemplative, normally when Scott sees him he's usually doing something or back talking someone because the man had to always be busy and doing something. But that night the man didn't even make a sound even as he walked away after Scott looked away first. Not even a creak in the floor. Scott knew that it shouldn't have given him a chill that Scott couldn't shake until morning, but something about it did due to the eeriness of it.

Scott of course made an ass of himself the next day and confronted Logan about it, blaming it on the full moon. Logan retaliated of course; the guy could dish it out just as well as he could receive. The matter was dropped and forgotten by lunch and Scott had Jean to pay attention to, leaving Logan to do whatever it is the man did.

That was a week before the mess at the mission that nearly caused Scott to die. And caused Logan to leave and get captured. The X-Men should have been watching his back, not some two hundred pound psychotic murderer like Victor Creed who failed just as much as Scott did to watch Logan's back. By the time they got Logan back, he wasn't Logan anymore.

That was Scott's fault too, his failure caused it.

Scott felt like such a child. And because of his own childish behavior, Logan was now stuck in a cage and failure after failure kept building up. It only became worse for Scott when he learnt the truth about how he escaped. Logan the gruff and anti-sociable mutant saved his life and other mutants, the Professor knew this. But never said a single word about it until he had to and that was probably because he had no other choice.

Scott felt so betrayed, so hurt and angry because of it. He wanted to kick the Professor out of this school, he was so tempted to. By the time Scott started to heal from this revelation on how he escaped that horrible place, another incident with the Professor happened. This time it was revolved around using his abilities to supposedly help Logan remember. Remember what exactly? The torture? The betrayal's? Or the pain? After all the preaching, about never using your powers against anyone unless you absolutely had to, the Professor did in fact go and use his powers.

And it made situations worse for Scott, and probably will be worse for the one on the receiving end of that attention. Scott for once couldn't blame Victor for being as angry as he was. Scott was too. And as he listened to the Professor's explanation on what he found in Logan's mind he found himself even more baffled when it came to Logan and angry at the Professor. He only reigned himself in when a soft touch to his mind and his arm from Jean. She was always the one who he could rely on, even more than his brother who was one of the first students and was in fact an unofficial student.

The second Victor was out of the room Scott turned to the Professor.

"How could you go and do that?" Scott asked, angry and wanting an answer.

"Scott…" the Professor started; unfortunately Scott was one of those kinds of people who can't really stop when they start ranting due to how quiet and pensive he usually could be. So the Professor couldn't get more than Scott's name into the conversation.

"You always told us to never use our abilities unless you were against the wall and there was no other way. There is always another way around a situation like this, another way to help Logan rather than you taking a trip through his mind like it were a damn park." Scott said, angrily and as calm as he could at once. He was the leader and it was his job to remain calm. Few people didn't understand how hard it was to do that sometimes, lucky for him he had a psychic for a girlfriend.

"Scott…" the Professor tried again, but it would only fail as Scott continued to rant,  
"No. This is unforgivable. This isn't far in the grey for you. This is far in the black. You of all people should understand the dangers of using your abilities against someone for anything. I read the files Professor, everything they done to him from the first time to the latest stint. His memory was forcefully erased, everything he was before was erased by both technology and a psychic to ensure it was done correctly. Thankfully for Logan, he managed to hold on to a small shred of his humanity the first time. And you, the worlds most powerful psychic goes waltzing around in his mind talking to projections and watching a memory is not right. You know this. It's wrong…"

"I know it's wrong, but it wasn't done lightly. I put a lot of thought into this Scott. I'm aware of what the results could be and I know the trust it would shatter. But I had to find some way to bring Logan out." The Professor finally said, as calm as he was Scott could tell the man was getting angry and perhaps upset as well.

"Logan the X-Men, your personal weapon that took off because your shaky morals at best couldn't bring yourself to control him or who he was meant to be if not for the tampering done." Scott coldly said as he crossed his arms as the Professor managed to get into his wheelchair.

"He is not my weapon I don't run things like that." The Professor insisted, Scott wanted to scoff, but kept himself from that.

"Then what would happen if you ever needed someone killed and X-Men don't kill. Who would you send? Not me. Hank? Jean? Ororo? No, you would have sent Logan because he does kill and can kill and isn't secretive about that little fact. You needed someone on your team that killed, didn't you. Your own personal soldier with the freedom to do what you need to be done, but can't ask us to do." Scott said as his voice was becoming colder if that was even possible. But it was a sobering thought to have, and one that didn't help his shattering trust in the Professor.

It was silent after that; Scott knew he hit a nerve and a pretty sore one at that. No one had the time to think as the young girl they rescued, Laura Kinney entered and literally demanded in her calm neutral way for assistance. And Professor Xavier confirmed what she probably came here for.

Scott cursed inwardly. Cursed the Professor, cursed Victor Creed and cursed the situation. He was the first to leave the room and head down the hall. Hank's blood has yet to be cleaned up. The doors refused to open and he could see the amount of scratches and deep grooves in the door. Was she trying to get in there to help Logan or simply just attack Victor Creed? Maybe both. Scott thought as he closed his eyes and switched the glasses to the visor he kept in his pocket, despite orders to put it away. Switching the setting slightly he fired.

The doors came right off the wall and slammed through the cell Laura was kept in. Unusable at this point and the first thing Scott noticed was the blood. There was a lot of blood and Victor Creed was on top of Logan who was covered with blood, so was Victor, but that wasn't Scott's first concern in favor of the angry and struggling feral underneath the man of his childhood nightmares.

"Colossus, remove Victor Creed from the room." Scott ordered, despite the young man's injuries he did just that against the obvious will of the struggling man. Scott heard doors open and close as Victor no doubt was locked in a random room to keep him out of the way. He did enough damage here. Scott kept his hand to his visor as Logan stood up, claws out and legs unsteady.

Scott inwardly shivered at the snarl that came from the man, angry and hurt. His whole front was nearly covered in blood and four parallel scratches were still healing on his face making him a more gruesome sight to look at.

Logan took an aggressive footstep closer.

Scott changed the setting on his visor.

Logan's fists tightened with the second step forward.

Scott aimed and prepared to fire on the third step. However, he never had to fire thankfully as Logan simply collapsed as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. The blood loss, lack of proper routines and constant fighting in this room no doubt playing a key part, not that Scott was complaining. In fact, he was glad he didn't have to in essence shoot Logan.

Going to Logan's side he checked to see how conscious the man was, he wasn't. Jean stood behind Scott and he didn't have to be a psychic to know the shock and worry was radiating from her. She always had a connection with him, with his mind due to the complexity of it. Logan might have read the signals wrong, and that led to the flirting. Scott shook that from his mind, this wasn't the time.

Scott noted that Laura stood at the door watching the situation. Colossus was back in the room, waiting for orders from Scott. Scott made a note to thank the young man personally later, he's injured and still being an X-Man in everyway.

Now that the situation was considerably calmer, they all had that uncomfortable question.

What now?

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles Xavier, he was a man who prided himself of doing the right thing. Fighting the good fight for the right reasons and that was why he fought against the first best friend he's probably ever felt connected to. That was why he fought to stop a war, knowing full well that there was a good chance that things would only get worse after that. And they did.

Charles was forced to erase Moira's memory to keep her from knowing this place only to restore her memory on a later date.

Charles started a school and hides his students away from the world to protect them. Fought against the brotherhood on several occasions and put up an older image of himself as an illusion as he led Scott and other students to their freedom fully. Knowing that there was another mutant who was going to need his help, but willingly left without him. Blocking a dangerous part of Jean away and locking it up like an animal in her mind away from her knowledge.

And now so many years later, past mistakes of not helping that man and willingly make choices that were questionable he was dealing with the consequences.

Charles didn't follow Scott, Jean or Colossus to the holding cells. He couldn't stand to. Guilt simply ate away at him for his mistakes, he was positive that he had no other choices. Nothing would get him to budge on that issue. It was for the best. It really was. He had to find a way to fix this. And going through Scott won't help the matter; the man didn't trust him for good reason.

Laura seemed to have a foot out the door, on her own choice. She seemed to be coming to the conclusion that in order to figure out things about herself and who she was and what she was. She had to do it on her own, away from Logan and her rescuers. Charles wouldn't be able to stop her if she decided to leave right now. He already messed up so much as it was.

And in order to fix things. He would have to go through Victor who was raging in the storage room.


	23. Chapter 23

Victor paced the storage room angrily; his claws forced dried blood to flake off as their size fluctuated on Victor's will. Extend. Shorten. Extend. Shorten. Over and over again, it was all he could do to keep himself from lashing out. He already stepped in a half empty box, knocked over a dusty pale and mop that stunk. Nothing in here seemed to be used much; the dust was enough to cause him to sneeze more than once.

And he hated to sneeze!

It made him feel the way most so-called normal people must feel when they're sneezing. Snarling slightly he kicked another box out of his way while he paced. Hearing something break and not really caring enough to stop and see if things were okay. The inside of the door and wall had deep gouges where Victor literally attacked the wall. The control panel was shut off, most likely because the metal freak decided it would be best if Victor couldn't come back out and join the situation again.

A situation they had no right to get involved in! That hapless idiot was his responsibility! Not theirs and certainly not the bald headed freak's responsibility. Could they not understand what Victor was trying to do? Obviously sneaking around the mindset failed big time and caused damage that no one really knew the extent of. So Victor tried a different approach, one that was hands on.

His gut clenched though at the image of his brother beaten down. It was for a good cause, so Victor really didn't understand why he felt some guilt over the situation. He harmed the Weapon not his brother, there was a difference. Couldn't everyone and everything understand that? Victor let out a loud inhuman snarl as his face twisted in the rage he felt as he lashed out at boxes and furniture that was set in here when they were no longer needed. Put aside. Abandoned. Left alone. Victor nearly sympathized.

_He couldn't use his name, he wasn't allowed. So people called him the name of an animal. Dog. And so that was what he answered to because that was what his papa wanted him to be called, so that's what he will be addressed as._

_Dog had to help with the gardening on good days._

_Dog had to clean the cabin every day._

_Dog always got left alone. He hated being alone, he was only five years old. And already a freak, a monster. Not a boy at all. And so he always got left alone in the cabin while his papa went out to work. When his papa came back, he either hurt Dog or ignored Dog. He felt like he wasn't wanted, and not loved. He didn't even understand fully what love even was._

_The slamming of the cabin door made him flinch as he looked up, his papa returned and hanging off of him was one of the maids who worked in the big house. Giggling and laughing, Dog didn't understand why though. What was so funny? She unfortunately shrieked she didn't expect him to be standing there so quietly. Dog looked down as soon as he saw the snarled expression twisting his papa's face._

_Dog felt the back of his neck being grabbed and angry slurred words shot down at him. What did he do now?_

_"Don'ya make any noise ya hear me boy." His papa ordered, and so Dog obeyed and nodded his agreement. The maid obviously surprised by the brutish behavior towards a boy said something; Dog heard the sound of skin slapping skin and a yelp causing Dog to wince. There were more words. Then talking in a weird way, purring maybe?_

_Dog feel asleep to the sounds of skin slapping skin, moans, grunts and yells._

Victor shook his head savagely with angry sounds coming out of his throat, all of which sounded nothing like a human. He remembered that he spent the night and the whole day in the closet, too afraid to leave it and not able to shake the feeling of being forgotten and abandoned the entire time. Victor hated those emotions, hated those memories. They always reminded him how weak he was.

Tossing the chair away from him he ended up sitting next to the wall, tucked behind a pile of boxes both on top and underneath a table. He looked the broken chair with hollow amusement, if only there was more blood involved. Leaning his head back he thought about the situation he was in. How helpless it actually made him feel and Victor didn't react well when he felt helpless. It left him dangerous to be around.

With a quiet 'tch' Victor proceeded to clean the blood off as good as he could without water. Normally he would lick it off, but this was his brother's blood and Victor didn't want to deal with that knowledge at the moment. And tasting the blood would only cement that knowledge so it would be forever unforgettable.

The doors slide open and Victor fought the urge to peek around the corner to see for himself, but he didn't want to be viewed any differently than he was already. So he listened as the sounds of wheels rolled against the metallic ground.

"I really wish you wouldn't cause so much destruction Victor." The obvious newcomer to his storage room casually said, stopping a few feet away. Victor sneered as a response to that as he leaned forward bringing in his most distrusted bald headed soon to be punching bag into his line of sight.

"Ya should o' told me you were comin'. I would've broken out some wine 'n cheese." Victor mocked coldly as he watched as the other man relaxed himself, prepared to go the long haul obviously.

"Sarcasm dully noted Victor. I'm here to talk to you about your brother. I…" Charles calmly said, though Victor wasn't really in the mood to listen.

"Oh now yer talkin' to me about him. Bravo for learning a new trick." Victor taunted cruelly, clearly not ready to forgive just yet. Unluckily for everyone, Victor was someone who rarely forgives. He still hasn't completely forgiven his brother yet, and it's been close to around twenty years.

"I know I m…" Charles tried, but Victor cut him off with,  
"Fucked up. Ya, we both know ya did. I aught to have you on the ground whimperin' for mercy for it and yer damn lucky that I don't. So you best be shutting up 'bout your screw up, wheels 'cause I'm through listening to you're excuses. Now, what're you here for." And it was all true, every word Victor said.

"Very well, I have an idea. One that will fix our dilemma, and if it works you have your brother back and I fixed my mistakes. Everyone wins." Charles suggested, giving an earnest expression Victor noted mildly disgusted. Was he really this confident and this desperate?

Victor licked his bottom lip in contemplation, leaning back slightly and eyeing the man who came in further to face Victor directly. It was a risk. It would be easy for Victor to lunge and take hold of the man before he had time to put up his defenses and react with his mind. Xavier was quick with his mind, but Victor was quicker with his physical reaction time. It wouldn't end well for the bald headed cripple. But the situation had too much of an alluring bait attached.

"You sound confident you'll succeed." Victor said without much emotion, testing the water before any action is taken.

"I _am_ confident." Charles confirmed, staring Victor in the eyes. It was a minor standoff between two powerhouses for two different reasons. One was a powerhouse because of his mind while his body was frail. The other was a powerhouse because he embodied the physical prowess any male would covet and woman would go wet for if they didn't know the truth and if Victor wanted it.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

X-23 followed close behind as they removed Weapon X from the room filled with blood and cages. It caused her to shiver, and she didn't understand why. It was too much like those faculties. Weapon X in bloodied cages and sometimes tied down like a dog. She was in restraining white rooms with no color and no sense of life. Dead. Just like how she was emotionally. Weapon X was treated worse than she was; he fought more than he obeyed. She obeyed because she knew nothing else.

She picked up the scent of Victor Creed alias Sabretooth near an unmarked door. There was also another scent, Professor Charles Xavier as well. Why was he in there with the one who beat on Weapon X? Where they striking a deal? Orders? She wanted orders? But she didn't want orders? She was confused about that regard.

Frowning slightly she canceled out her own confusion and concern over the situation and followed them into the infirmary where they put Weapon X on the table, her claws sprung out. She didn't know why, but she didn't like how that looked. Where they going to harm Weapon X some more? Did he not suffer enough today?

"It's okay, we only want to get him cleaned up and check him over to see if his injuries are healing normally." A feminine voice said the mutant Jean Grey. Doctor, teacher. With the mutation of telepathy and telekinetic abilities. X-23 spent some time with her, but not enough to gain a general feel for whom she was. It was funny though, her natural pheromones when around Scott Summers suggested that she wanted to mate. Her attraction went up, voice softened and expression shifted. It was the same for Scott as well. They cared for each other, intimately. She barely understood, but she knew what she smelt.

X-23 nodded and watched as they cleaned the blood off of him, changed his pants and put casts on both hands keeping his hands bent enough to keep the claws from coming out. Ingenious, simple and effective. But no restraints were showing up. She looked over and noticed the blue handler was awake and sitting up in bed. He was already informed that he should stay relaxed and that the situation was under control. The one who removed Victor from the room was relaxing as well; movements indicated his shoulder was in pain.

Twenty minutes passed since she first came for assistance. And everything was finally finished. She was satisfied that much she understood. It was the same feeling as she got when she completed a mission or training exercise within parameters. But not the same sort of situation. She stared at the prone form of Weapon X who looked as though he was simply asleep, a state she never saw him in before. Not a calm one anyway.

She sensed a shift in the air, like something changed. Somehow. Something has changed. In her. In Weapon X. In the people around her, the connection between Professor Xavier and Scott. Everything.

With one last look at Weapon X, X-23 turned and exited the infirmary and walked to an elevator. She felt like her gut was clenched and she was on edge. She felt like she did for a brief second when she failed one mission, when she couldn't kill a child. A brief second she felt as though she was free enough to choose whether or not to sink her claws into the boy.

She chose not to.

She failed. But didn't. She couldn't understand and couldn't understand completely how it wasn't a bad thing. To fail that mission.

X-23 frowned and exited the elevator the second the doors slide open. She walked to her room, grateful for the emptiness of the hallways and thankful that the number of students that would normally be here, wasn't. Sitting at her small desk she pulled out a pen and paper. Next to the desk was a backpack that her mother got to her captures turned saviors, if that's what they were. In the backpack was the letter that X-23 put the letter in herself, passports and money.

Setting the pen against the paper, she started to write. She didn't know exactly what to write or even why, but she was driven to do it. Do something so trivial and deemed normal. Her words were precise and professional and her writing neat and emotionless that you could swear that it was more like a simple font in a word program.


	24. Chapter 24

Not too long after they managed to get Logan restrained, the Professor called for all of them in his office upstairs leaving Logan alone in the infirmary. A step up from a cell block, but not by much in Scott's opinion. The infirmary looked like a laboratory with the lights out and even when the lights were on. So they had to make this quick, and more importantly they had to figure out what to do with Logan exactly. They couldn't put him back in the cell. Something told Scott he wouldn't allow himself to be placed there easily and there was now fewer members able to fight the feral berserker long enough to put him back in the cell. And Scott didn't trust Victor Creed to do it, just look at what his flawed decisions caused him to do this time.

Looking to his side stood the slightly injured, but in one piece Kurt Wagner aka Nightcrawler. His tail twitched periodically and nearly reminded Scott of a cat. To Scott's right was Jean. He would love to have Ororo's opinion on this situation as well, but she was tending to the children at another location with the help of the older students she had with her as well as Moira. Hank was sitting on the sofa and Victor Creed was standing off to the side away from everyone. Peter was sitting on the same couch as Hank.

The Professor was at his desk with his hands folded in front of him on the desk as he regarded all of them. Laura was missing, Scott didn't know where the young damaged girl was and he found himself worried over her safety as well as others safety around her.

"First of all, I want to apologize. I made a great deal of mistakes with this situation and few of them cannot be undone completely. They can, however, be mended and fixed, with work." The Professor said, Scott swallowed the immature reaction of snorting at that. He was the leader, and he cannot allow himself to indulge in shallow behavior such as that.

"Laura Kinney has officially left us, I found a letter from her in her room. Mostly directed towards Logan who she refers to as Weapon X simply because she doesn't know better. To make a long story short, she wants to figure things out for herself and cannot do that here. She has an auntie who is related to her late mother Doctor Sarah Kinney. She'll go stay there for a bit." Charles explained calmly as he eyed everyone in the room. Scott could tell that Victor didn't care at all; to him Laura was probably just poorly created extension of his sibling, but not related at all.

"Are you sure that'll be okay for her Professor, she's a young girl who's confused?" Jean asked, Scott agreed with her. And by what he could tell, most did.

"I have faith that she'll be fine. Unfortunately we cannot look after someone if they don't wish to be looked after. No matter how much we want to. We also need to focus our attention on our fallen X-Man, Logan. It's with him that I made the most mistakes and most of them are very well unforgivable. As was my mistakes with you Scott, and I hope I can earn your forgiveness one day." Charles calmly stated, looking everyone in the eyes especially making eye contact with Scott.

"In time." Scott said, it wasn't a yes or no. It wasn't even a maybe. But in time he will decide on one of those. But he had to see for himself improvements. Continuing calmly with little to no emotion,  
"What are your plans with Logan?"

The professor looked slightly put off at Scott's lack of budging on the subject, but continued nonetheless while Scott crossed his arms tensely and only loosening up when he felt the back of Jean's hand brush against his hip and a light nudging on his mind he knew was from Jean. Her silent comforts.

"The danger room is the only option. I have already programmed a forest like setting because we cannot very well take him to a real forest. We could very well lose Logan for good there. Victor helped me with designing it. There will also be a large building located there. A rather old fashioned Estate that hopefully he will find a way to recognize. Victor also helped me with the details on the inside. We did this while everyone else was busy tending to Logan, and you all did a good job with the whole situation. I am very proud." Charles explained calmly and Scott frowned slightly. More trickery, but at least this time they were informed and it didn't sound like it was something to cause Logan extra stress. Hopefully.

"And what will your role be in this? So far, you only said how Victor did this and that." Scott asked, cutting to the point sharply.

"I will be keeping an eye on the whole thing in the control area, I will also keep myself linked to him in order to calm him down…" Charles explained and Scott found himself frowning.

"I don't think you should calm him down Professor." Jeans interrupted and Charles actually frowned. Scott wanted to look smug, but held off.

"Because you think he has a right to be angry? And he does. He had every right to be angry, but he cannot function in anger alone especially in society. He's not a weapon, so we cannot allow him to go on like this. And I didn't say I wouldn't let him get it out of his system. I will, but at a controlled setting. For the most part he needs to calm down so he could reattach himself to what made him a man rather than the weapon we have all witnessed." Charles explained calmly.

Scott could see that most of them were uneasy with the situation, but nearly everyone else was willing to trust the Professor's judgment call here. Scott was a little more uneasy on the subject, but decided to give the Professor's plan a try. But make no mistake; Scott will be ready to interfere.

"When do you want to start?" Scott asked professionally, arms back to his side. It was funny, right now he was willing to do what he could to help Logan and fight on his behalf, but as soon as he goes back to normal Scott had no doubt that their interactions would be back to its old self. Scott for once didn't have a problem with that.

"As soon as everyone is ready, all we have to do is activate the danger room and transport Logan there. That will be where you come in Kurt."

"Ja." Kurt said, tail twitching again.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles was pleased to say the least that everyone was going to help with this. Charles knew he should have done this from the start, so much time was lost and so many mistakes made. But as most would say, better late than never. However, it looked like Scott, despite agreeing was not going to be giving him a benefit of the doubt in this situation. Not that Charles expected him to, but it would have been nice. He already failed Scott's older brother, by going down this path Charles went down so long ago that allowed him to make harsh decisions. Alex didn't agree, and in turn left. So did Sean. Hank left for a short time, but he came back. And by then, there were more members here and the X-Men was truly founded.

Kurt already left, only Charles really knew the young man's origins from his sister Raven and a former member of the Hellfire club turned Brotherhood member temporarily, Azazel. Charles really didn't know what happened to the red-skinned mutant and didn't know where to search if he wanted to. Azazel's teleportation range was near limitless. He was simply gone. Raven was now only Mystique and an enemy. It hurt that knowledge and unfortunately unavoidable.

The rest followed him into the elevator as they made their way into the subbasement and headed towards the danger room.

"None of you have to stay the whole time, there's no telling how long this will take. When it looks to me that Logan is calming down and ready for a more rational state I've agreed with Victor that he will go in and deal with the situation. Hopefully from there we can rehabilitate Logan and fully bring him back out into a more social environment." Charles explained calmly as he once again took lead outside the elevator. They saw Kurt waiting at the entrance of the danger room, Logan wasn't in sight. The lock was set on the danger room stating that someone was already inside. Charles gave him a kind smile as a thank you.

"I would like to observe how it goes in the beginning." Scott states in a hard tone, Charles heard Victor snort at that. Thankfully neither starts anything; Scott's busy telling Jean that she could go rest and that she deserves it. Scott's always did look out for her, even when she gets stubborn. She reluctantly leaves, trusting Scott's judgment. She takes Peter with her and Kurt takes a hint and leaves the three of them alone as they enter the control room that for now would double as an observation room.

It was activated to the right program and Charles marveled at the realism of it as a bird flew by the window. In the center of a small clearing laid an unconscious Logan.

 _Let's hope this works and he doesn't decide that he likes it in there…_ Charles thought to himself, but knows if it came to that gentle nudging can help persuade Logan otherwise.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Stryker had bouts of doubt when it came to this decision of hiring what could nearly amount to what can be considered nothing more than a time bomb waiting to go off. Omega Red already took down one prison, two half-way houses and an alleyway of bums. All to keep him satiated, Stryker almost toyed with the idea of giving him the C-sync early, but scrapped that idea. What's the point of having a bargaining chip if you just give it away for nothing? Who's to say Omega Red won't turn on him the second he had what he wanted.

So far it was apparent that he liked to flip through radio channels, commenting on the lack of style American musicians had. Especially when it came to one Lady Gaga. Stryker slightly agreed. But as for all musicians who were American not having style, Stryker disagreed. He liked the older stuff. Omega Red tried to find something sung in Russian, but mercy to Stryker's ears he didn't find any. He wasn't in the mood to listening to anything foreign.

So they listened to news while Stryker literally drove the man into New York. They were on the opposite side of where the school was located. Within two to five days they will get the green-light and Omega Red would be released on the school with soldiers as back up. And Stryker would get his weapon back! And as soon as Weapon X was back in Stryker's possession he will give the C-Sync to Omega Red and arrange for the man to be destroyed when at a safe distance.

He was behind in business that Weapon X offered him when controlled. Pity things weren't like they were back in the day when Team X was founded and was actually a part of SHEILD, just a blacked out and classified part of that department. Back when it had enough common sense. Those were no longer the days. These days he had to wheel and deal under the table and through unofficial channels. He didn't have a problem doing that, it was a war. But he believed that he shouldn't have to. His father must be rolling in his grave by now.

Omega Red's phone rang and he of course answered it in Russian. Stryker had the conversations recording so he could get it translated and sent to him in order to make sure there will be no secrets held from him. Stryker pulled into what appeared to be a mansion.

"We'll be staying here, think of it as a base set up by a few friends of mine." Stryker stated as he watched Omega Red pull the phone away from his ear as he watched the area with suspicious looks.

"Very nice… I vill have my dry cleaning sent here, yes." Omega Red stated casually as he spoke Russian into the phone one last time before hanging up.

"I don't see why not. When did you contact the dry cleaning?" Stryker asked conversationally, all the while cursing the fact that he has to communicate with this abomination like this. Weapon X was going to suffer for forcing Stryker to put up with this farce of a situation.

"Just now." Omega Red answered with a sly grin as he waved the turned off phone slightly. Stryker nodded and parked the car, thanking the fresh air to give him a reprieve from having to breathe the same air as Omega Red. A woman walked towards them, showing no emotion. Stryker smiled at her, she didn't react. She wasn't supposed to. He had her under his complete control.

He gave her a folder that was labeled under her codename, Lady Deathstrike.

"Observe only." Stryker stated, his usual confident smirk played on his features as he walked past her. Omega Red watched with unhidden amusement before following calmly into the mansion like building that was cleared out inside. Not even a nail on the wall was left.

"It was confiscated, a former grow op. Everything had to be cleaned out to fix the wiring." Stryker stated calmly as he left Omega Red to his own, let him figure this place out. Stryker needed a break.


	25. Chapter 25

Pain, that was the first thing that met him as things started to clear up and consciousness took its unforgiving hold. A mind numbing and an excruciating pain Weapon X could not ignore no matter how hard he tried. And he did, despite his training to ignore pain. It meant nothing, it is nothing to him. He was a weapon; his needs were unimportant and thus ignorable. So long as he was able to fight, able to keep going and above all else able to kill. Simply because that's what he was meant for, to kill.

No one could argue that. Not Weapon X, not his handlers. Not anyone…

Only he didn't really feel like he was supposed to feel. If he felt anything at all. Rolling to his side clumsily Weapon X let out a small sound of pain that was cancelled out at the confusion at what he saw. There was no bars, no doors. There was nothing, but trees and sounds he didn't know and still recognized all the same. Blinking several times he rolled further to his knees.

Confusion, muddled thoughts and conflicting programming and feelings seemed to swirl around in his head biting at his attention like a pack of wolves to their prey. Shaking his head he stood up unsteadily to a point where he had to use a tree to steady himself on legs that felt like they weighted a ton each. Where was he? Was this a joke? There was nothing or no one around to indicate that he was on a mission. Not to mention he didn't look right.

Where was his helmet and the controls that was always set for him?

Sniffing the air he smelt pine trees. He knew what those were, but didn't know how he knew. Looking around he knew what the trees were called.

_"Hey Victor, Papa said I could go swimming, do you want to come with me?"_

Weapon X's head snapped to his left, a snarl twisting his lips and confusion blurring concentration. He heard those words, heard them. But he didn't see the origin or the child who spoke them. Where was the child? Sniffing the air he couldn't pick up anything. Swimming. Water. Weapon X was thirsty so he started to move calmly. Not comfortable with the peaceful nature of the forest he was in. He knew it was a forest, a recognizable one. Somehow and in some way. Still no child. Where was the child? How did he know what a child even sounded like? He never heard or saw one before. Right?

Weapon X shook his head savagely, trying to knock the changes away. Knock something that would be unfamiliar to him and dare he say a bit frightening if that was even possible. It was something nearly human. He wasn't though; he would never be a man. He was built for destruction. Right?

Snarling he took off the second he picked up the scent of water. Water meant food too, everything goes to water sources. From the predators to the prey. It was a basic necessity of life, one that even Weapon X thrived on. The second he got there he felt relieved almost. Sniffing the air he smelt deer, bear, and smaller rodents. Trees, earth. Normal. Safe?

_"Jimmy! You ain't supposed ta be peein' in the water upstream when I'm drinking from it you jerk!"_

Weapon X jumped at the sound just as he took a few sips of water straight from the stream. Looking around he was looking for another boy altogether. Snarling at the embarrassed feeling that crept up inside him.

_"Sorry Victor…"_

Weapon X gave up on drinking as he stood up and started to search for the voices. Chasing the sound of laughing or yelling or happy pointless talk. He didn't know what was going on, but it wasn't right. Something wasn't right. Weapon X felt off, like something was switched on or off. He didn't know and didn't understand. Letting out a frustrated roar he ran faster ignoring the branches and bushes that he ran through.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles kept everything monitored with his own abilities and the computers. Scott has since sat down as did Victor, both on opposite sides of the room. Neither acknowledging anyone as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. Already awake Logan looked tormented and chasing ghosts. Charles knew that neither enjoyed what they were watching, which was shocking in Victor's case. He was far from a good person even now, but at least he had his priorities straightened out. For the most part.

Scott was curious on why it seemed like Logan heard things that weren't there, but he didn't voice them. Charles was the only one who deemed what was happening a good thing, and it was. What he sensed and heard in Logan's mind showed that things were starting to finally turn on. But it concerned him with the fact that he felt more comfortable within the danger room's settings. Not for much longer, not with what Victor helped me create. Charles thought to himself as he folded his hands on his lap.

"How long will this take?" Victor snarled out as he watched Logan finally slow down, realizing that the voices he was chasing didn't exist and shaking his head roughly before settling down near a tree. Charles watched Victor examine what was going on closely before turning towards him. Charles kept his face neutral and ignored the hard look Victor used with him.

"As long as it takes, he's already making good progress. At least the mindset revolving around killing thinking of himself as a weapon is slowing down to a stop. That in itself will allow him to get a grip on things." Charles explained calmly.

"With or without your help?" Scott asked, there was still a lot of distrust and suspicion in the young man now. Charles sighed.

"Without, Scott I'm not doing anything aside from monitoring what's going on in his mind. And it's a lot better than what it was when we first found him. He still isn't Logan and is still functioning as Weapon X, but he's not thinking like it. He's in a feral state, if you were to walk into the danger room now he won't recognize what you are fully and at the same time consider you to be a handler and a threat. This is in essence, Logan's coping mechanism. Yes it made it easier for them to manipulate him and break him into being a weapon, but it's also what keeps it possible for him to return to being a man rather than someone in a feral like mindset. In essence, an animal." Charles explained calmly hoping the point he was trying to make was received.

"He didn't ever do that before." Victor snarled, almost like he was in denial himself or just didn't understand what his own brother's coping mechanisms were in the first place and most likely misreading them. Charles found himself giving a small sigh again. He's been doing that a lot lately.

Now he had to figure out how to word what he was about to say and hoped that Victor wouldn't snap.

"Yes, Victor. He did. He always did. When he was a child, in your mind I saw how he reacted about a day after everything happened. He cornered himself between two roots of a tree and you couldn't touch him because like a young frightened animal he pulled away and gave warnings off that clearly said that he'll lash out if provoked or touched. You remember that well Victor, I know you do. It's playing out in your mind right now. After every war, and sometimes even during the wars you and he fought in. He would isolate himself, drink and took drugs. Snarl and fight. Run away. But he always came back to you when he recollected himself. Always. In the early wars, you had an idea of what it was and did nothing aside from giving him his space and a sense of normalcy.

You helped him slightly then, without even realizing it. But as the wars dragged on and were being fought in other countries and in trenches and skies. Things got worse; he would go through the same routine, slipping into a feral state or borderline feral state. By then you were slipping further and further into being what you are. The animal who dreamed he was a man, you embraced your other side Victor so you figured the same would happen with your brother, not realizing it was a copping mechanism in itself to keep his already fragile mind from completely shattering. Giving him a way to rebuild himself, to stay the man rather than what you figured he'd become and what you wanted him to become. You cannot say that I'm lying or that I don't know what I'm talking about; you forget I was in both his mind and yours.

He is damaged goods, Victor. He has been for a long time, the wars. Your father. Stryker and the Project. It all pushed him to a breaking point and although many times he came close, he didn't break just let it be a copping mechanism that went unacknowledged by those around him. It left him with severe PTSD and Hypervigilance. However, this time he didn't just come close Victor. He shattered, he's broken in there and this is the only way he can find his way again." Charles explained.

He could feel that Victor and Scott wanted to be sick, guilt gnawed at both of them and rage tore through Victor's mind like a wildfire. Victor stood up and left all the while vibrating with sheer anger. The truth hurts and struck the large feral mutant where it hurt. The safely guarded shred of humanity the man possessed. Victor was at a crossroad, he had to decide now what to do with the information and his role in things to come.

Charles focused on the scene in front of him.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X finally stopped in the middle of a clearing. It was faintly familiar; something about it seemed to have that fake feeling to it. It was too clean. Not at all like how nature is, or at least how Weapon X thinks it is. But somehow he knew, just like he knew that something was off with him now. Weapon X sniffed the air. He had the feeling of being chased, running. Afraid, tired and clinging to someone for leadership and security.

But who?

_"What do we do now? I'm scared, what way do we go?" A whimpering voice said, young and filled with fear and tears._

Whoever that voice belonged to, it was familiar. Somehow? He knew that voice. He knew it. Whoever he was asking, talking to and whimpering for seemed to be hesitating. Trying to figure out which way to go. Behind those voices were the sounds of shouting and dogs barking. Weapon X looked in a direction. Another voice said frantically…

_"That way! We gotta keep goin', we go that way. Come on James! Just a little bit further, we'll be safe soon."_

_"Promise?" James whimpered, desperate and clinging onto an ounce of hope._

_"Promise. I'll look out for you." The former frantic voice said, but less frantically and more confidently._

Lies. Somehow he found those words to be a package full of lies. All of it, the boy James probably got screwed over in the end. Somehow in someway. Weapon X was sure of it. But somehow the voices led him in a direction and it felt like his hearing was how you would hear underwater. It was odd, and Weapon X fought the urge to shake his head clear, if he even could.

So without any hesitation he took off in a direction he felt he was being led in. Ignoring the bushes that stung his shines and branches that snapped against his sides with scratching efficiency only to be sealed shut within seconds. So they weren't important, the only thing that was important was going forward. His own physical needs and minor problems were not entirely important at the moment. Just going forward in a direction he knew to go. Somehow. One thing Weapon X did notice was how the pathway became less natural and more groomed. Like it was a pathway that was used often. Weapon X snarled as he stopped abruptly and crouched, checking the soil and surroundings for any signs of life. The only thing he could find was the normal things he'd expect to. Nature. Life. Testing everything slightly Weapon X took to traveling forward more cautiously and off the obviously created path. But by who? Humans. That was the answer. Curling his lips slightly he could only figure that humans equal a few things, nothing good and most of it resolved around killing and causes of pain.

Pain wasn't something new to Wolverine. In fact, it was something he expected from them. Though he could barely figure out whoever them was exactly, his mind settled on one task at the moment and that was trudging forward. Sniffing the air again new things caught his attention, but nothing that raised too much alarm. Local wildlife, but other scents that weren't natural either. Snarling more aggressively Weapon X felt pain in his wrists as his claws forced their way out. Naturally. He stopped when his path was stopped by a wall. Old, built by hand. Odd to be here, but normal.

Gripping his head Weapon X nearly collapsed to his knees by the sudden onslaught of images flittering by too fast to grasp or understand. Mixed feelings assaulted him unforgivingly forcing a very human gasp of strain and pain from him. Panting angrily he was determined now, to go forward. Always forward. To find the reason for this situation and stop it using any means. It will stop! Weapon X snarled as he rounded the corner and onto the property with savage determination only to be shocked to see a house. An estate? Who's? His? Confusion that was enough to force him to want to turn around, not face this suffocating emotion only to see a gate that didn't fit was now closed to him. Roaring in anger and rage Weapon X lashed out at it, mind numbing to any rationale he could have used to simply climb over or slip through.

Emotion was something Weapon X didn't deal with, but somehow in this place it must be the thing that was turned on and now tormented Weapon X with foreign things.


	26. Chapter 26

Victor Creed always thought emotions were a weakness and that belief only got worse after Jimmy betrayed him. And Victor knows how well that whole mess turned out in the end. The result was now feral in a holographic room, and Victor was trapped with do-gooders. Nobody worth his time. So the fact that Victor is now forced to deal with the most unfamiliar and most hated emotion simply turned to unhinged rage as he thrashed the room with the X-Jet nicely tucked away underneath the basketball court. Tacky place, obvious and well hidden all the same. The jet was untouched; Victor could not say the same for the rest of the room though. It's seen better days.

And he was not quite finished yet, just taking a breather as those hated words of Xavier's kept repeating in his mind as though it was a broken record. It made his guilty feeling only twinge harder and the nauseating feeling in his stomach mocked him further. Snarling angrily his face no doubt twisted in a rage filled expression as his claws sunk through his palms to the point where the tips started to break through skin on the other side. Blood dripped freely and it stung enough to keep him blinded to rationality. He really wanted to kill someone right about now. Make them feel torment as great as or greater than what he was being put through by his own almost human emotions.

And for a moment, just one moment he might be free from his own torment.

"Fuck…" Victor snarled to himself as he paced up and down the thrashed room angrily. Victor took random swings at things that looked to be to be in decent shape still. Nothing could be in good shape so long as he is upset! His whole body was warm and the blood was pumping through his veins hard enough he could feel it due to the adrenaline rush his own rage drove him into.

_"…He is damaged goods, Victor. He has been for a long time, the wars. Your father. Stryker and the Project. It all pushed him to a breaking point and although many times he came close, he didn't break just let it be a copping mechanism that went unacknowledged by those around him. It left him with severe PTSD and Hypervigilance. However, this time he didn't just come close Victor. He shattered, he's broken in there and this is the only way he can find his way again."_

What did he know? Victor knew his brother better than any man and any frail to walk this earth. Even better than some two-bit hot-shot baldheaded psychic know it all. No matter what that fool spewed out. He would have seen those feral states; he would have recognized those states. And he would have been able to deal with them accordingly; Jimmy was just as much of an animal as Victor is. Couldn't the moron see that much? At one time the teacher's pet saw it? Why else did Jimmy-Logan leave this forsaken place?

_Victor panted from the long night of running, it was finally quiet and he made the mistake of wandering away from his frie-brother for a few minutes. When he returned to the boy's side he noticed the boy curled up between two old looking roots. The ground was moist where he was, and Victor could tell that it was not water due to the staining of James's clothing. Fear and the rush of having to run like that no doubt took away from the basic controls someone would have over their own bodies. James was curled up in his own mess. Vomit was on the ground in front of him. And Victor didn't have to be a genius to know that the kid was afraid, terrified even with how wide his eyes were and how frantic they were darting around._

_"James?" Victor tried cautiously. He had seen that kind of look before. But mainly in an animal for the slaughter that he watched hi-their pa put down. It knew it had something to fear, so it was afraid. The same frantic look was now mirrored on his brother's young sweaty face. It did not fit. Where were the smiles? The laughter? Stolen no doubt. Victor would do what he could to give those back to his fr-brother. Victor called for James again, no answer and after several frustrating attempts he grew irritated and tried to remove James forcefully. Only to pull back hard enough he fell to the ground in shock. His wrist was a well-shaped bite mark and claws made it harder to grip the boy if he even tried as he had them out and clutched himself closer and sunk farther into the spot between the two old roots. Fearful. Panicked. If Victor wasn't careful, James might try to run away from him too._

_Then Victor would be alone._

_Victor did not want to be alone, and he knew that deep down neither did James._

_They were brothers, and brothers stuck together._

_Softer this time Victor approached James, kept his voice soft and his body low. Not really knowing what he was doing, but he had to make sure he was not threatening or too dominant for the poor frightened boy. After what seemed like half the day and a few more wettings on James's part, Victor managed to drag the boy out of his hiding spot ignoring the panicked sounds and screams as he held the boy tighter. Ignoring the scent or how he could feel wetness transferring to him. Eventually the struggling and panicked sounds turned to panting and uncontrolled sobs. Six in total claws still out and marring the image of innocent fists desperately clinging to someone for security._

_"It's okay… It's. It's going to be okay." Victor hummed to his brother who probably couldn't even hear him over desperate sobs and pleadings for all this to go away. Victor ignored the uncomfortable wetness now forming on his shirt where James dug his face and the uncomfortable feeling of being touched like this._

Victor ended up collapsing under that memory, and for a moment he could have sworn he felt those wet spots. Looking back at that part of the memory Victor still had a hard time feeling disgusted, his brother was afraid and Victor's seen adults wet themselves over less when face-to-face with Victor. Leaning against the wall he surveyed the room with barely present amusement. Victor will not clean this mess, he won't. He didn't care what anyone said.

Damaged goods. That was what his brother was, and this feral state. This state his baby brother was in was a supposed coping mechanism. Or so says Xavier. But, Xavier's a shrink like psychic so he has to know what he's talking about. Right? Victor snarled. He'll let this carry on, for a while. Yes that is what he would do. He'll let this carry on and if he finds out something was done to his brother. No one in this school will survive to tell the day the crossed Victor Creed in the worst kind of way. He could see the headlines already.

Sabretooth struck again!

Victor chuckled as he loosened his fists and retracted his blood covered claws as he simply sat there, barely afloat in his own unwanted guilt and his welcomed malicious intent for revenge should anything go wrong. After all, he might be playing nice with the kids. But he was not the good guy, so he won't have a problem carrying out his revenge. Should it be needed and Victor knew that a part of him hoped that it would be needed.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Weapon X eventually gave up on the damaged gate locking him in; he cautiously moved forward hiding behind everything to give himself cover. But no one was around and that did not make any sense whatsoever. This place looked like it had people living here; even the door was left wide open almost like someone ran out and forgot to close the door behind them. Weapon X frowned at the foolishness in that action, cowardly or overexcited? He didn't know which led to such a foolish move and it did not matter either.

_"What are you?" A feminine voice said._

Whoever that voice belonged with it sounded like she was confused, hurt and disgusted by something. And something told him, that something was him. Weapon X could not explain why but he felt hurt, like he was rejected by someone he cared for somehow. Perhaps even loved, if he was even capable of that. Weapon X touched his stomach, it felt like it just dropped in child-like disappointment and like someone punched him in the stomach but there was no physical pain. Weapon X looked around, angry suddenly at the female voice. He wanted to scream at her, hurt her like her voice just hurt him and worst of all was that Weapon X almost wanted to beg that voice to take him back to want him in some way. It hurt and it was frustrating.

_"Why… Why did she say those things Victor? Does… Does she hate me now? It was a mistake. I didn't mean to make her hate me…" A child whimpered._

A young voice, the same one that belonged to that James kid said. Weapon X roared out in rage, why won't it stop? This wasn't his problem. None of this belonged to him, he was a weapon. He was! So than why did he have to deal with a thing that was not his problem to begin with? Almost running from that voice and the feminine voice, Weapon X bound around the corner and into the house stopping dead in the center of the room he entered. Suddenly without warning Weapon X could not help but feel suffocated by the intensity this place seemed to have in its affect on him.

On the ground to his left was the outline of a body, the white lines created by chalk. Weapon X cautiously approached it; there wasn't any blood or anything to indicate a murder happened or something. Weapon X barely noted that murder and killing was two of the same things done differently at times. It was not important. Why should it be? Almost like he was unsure of himself or what he was doing he knelt by the outline in a manner that would allow him to survey the rest of the room freely. Autumn leaves were spread across the floor from the door being left open. It didn't seem like an act of overexcitement now. Something deep inside of him told him that it was far more tragic happened to cause the outlines and the door to be opened.

_"J… James…"_

Weapon X looked down, almost expected to see somebody on the last grips of dying to be laying there. Weapon X nearly choked in sudden sorrow and desperation, and all of it turning to rage. Only this rage was a drop in the pool compared to Weapon X's rage, but rage nonetheless. Looking up he noticed another chalk outline against the door, the body would be slumped if it was still there.

_"He wasn't your father…"_

A male voice now, one that gained a feeling of distrust, resentment and perhaps some fear as well. Like the voice belonged to a man that Weapon X was wary of to begin with. Why? Weapon X growled loudly and in a threatening manner. Why was this happening to him!

_"What are you?"_

Weapon X's head snapped towards another direction, chalk outlining a spot where someone would be or should be kneeling. Why did he know that? Weapon growled at that direction only it was weaker than he expected. He was a weapon, this should not be happening to him!

_"He wasn't your father, son."_

The same feeling of shock and being punched in the stomach came back, and along with it came the knowledge that he was now a killer. A monster. Weapon X wanted to ask that pathetic question of, why me? What did I do to deserve this? Weapon X forced himself into a crouching position so that his feet were touching the ground rather than just kneeling as he was. When did he kneel in the first place?

_"What are you?"_

Weapon X shook his head savagely, almost desperately to force those voices that tormented him away. What kind of sick joke was this? Was it his handlers finding some cruel way to mock him with things that aren't his? That, that should be his? A word nearly caught in his throat if not for the constant growling that drowned it away before it even started. Without warning Weapon X took off in the opposite direction of the door and up the stairs. Not noticing where he was going only letting his instincts and need to get away to guide him. Collapsing on top of the stairs he could have sworn he saw a boy in red stop at the railings before running down stairs. Weapon X found himself vibrating for some reason as he watched as what seemed to be ghosts acting out what Weapon X figured happened. The boy in red murdered the man with a gun.

Letting out a choking sound Weapon X didn't understand what was wrong with him and did not care to find out as he forced his body to move forward until he entered a room and slammed the door shut behind him. Once more collapsing over the traumatic state his mind seemed to be in all of a sudden. Weapon X looked around and noticed he was in a room with a lot of pictures hanging on the wall or set up in picture frames on the ground. The pictures were not supposed to be here. That was all he knew. Weapon X didn't know what else to do at this point, so he let out a loud nearly inhuman sound that was mixed with everything he was feeling at the moment. All his rage. All his sorrow, and sorrow he didn't even know he had. All the betrayed hurt. All the hurt from rejection. Lost love? Everything he had and didn't know even existed.

And he kept it up until collapsing in a crumbled form curled tightly against the door. His only quiet thought was of two words.

_Why me?_


	27. Chapter 27

Scott always was a controlled individual, not so much when he was a teenager. He was angry a lot, hurt and probably suffering from some form of PTSD due to what happened to him. But what did you expect; he was chased through his own school by a murderous mutant who happened to be the one who's riding his own pity party for the most part at the moment. Scott was not entirely sure if he had the right to, considering what is going on with Logan at the moment. The man curled up in what appeared to be an old bedroom deserved a lot more than that. He did not deserve to have a brother who would rather storm off and tend to his own pity rather than being an older brother and sticking around to help him when he truly does need all the help he could get.

Scott who was a younger sibling to an older brother himself could understand what it felt like to be left by your older brother when you needed him most. Just like Logan at the moment. Forcing that from his mind he decided that this was not the time to drown himself in his own self-pity. This was not a situation that called for it. Now he required to be a leader and help someone who was a part of his team who needed the help. He couldn't really say that he had to be a friend, because truth was. He and Logan never got off on the right foot with one another. Assumptions and attitudes always seemed to drive that option out the window even quicker than Jean's presence was able to. Shockingly enough.

"What happens now?" Scott asked as he crossed his arms and watched the curled figure just lay there. His gut clenched in sympathy and guilt for the man. If only he knew everything beforehand and if only he could lay the blame on not knowing completely onto the Professor alone. But the man obviously had a lot of guilt for this situation as well. And the fault lays with Scott as well; he didn't dig enough or try hard enough. All he saw was attitude and a questionable individual who flirted with Jean one too many times.

"Now, we wait. I don't know for how long. His mind's not doing much at the moment, mostly trying to brace his sanity against the onslaught of flashbacks and memories that are currently running wild in his mind. He could hardly focus on one memory long enough to embrace it or reject it." Charles explained calmly, Scott only frowned. It was a winded explanation, one that could be used but was ultimately unwanted. Scott wanted to know what they could do now. Waiting may be an option but it might not be the best one. How Scott hated the fact that he now seemed like a desperate child trying to fix a mistake. But it was not something that he could simply push away, guilt would not allow that. And Scott did feel guilty for his own mistakes and wanted nothing more than to undo them.

"What could be done about it though, surely there is something to make things easier." Scott pushed, cringing inside at the force of his own need to remedy this situation. At least he wasn't drowning in his blame towards the Professor or having to deal with conflicting emotions brought on by the wheelchair bound man. That would surely come again in due time, but for now. There were other things to be dealt with.

"Easier isn't always better Scott. Sometimes it's more of a hindrance than anything. Right now, Logan has to decide what his next move is." Charles explained calmly as he used his arms to shift himself in his seat slightly. Scott frowned, he should have known this. Easier wasn't always better. But it did not stop the need though; it was something that made Scott human despite his own disposition with things.

"And what's that?" Scott asked as he watched the lack of movement in the room and his gut clenched once again in guilt. This situation should never have happened in the first place. Just like secrets should not have happened among them and the Professor. Was this why he was left at this mansion alone when his brother left after an argument that Scott couldn't hear completely. Due to everything that happened, the stress he was under. Hearing the fight overwhelmed him so it was hard to remember everything that was said. There was one thing though. His brother's parting words before he stormed out of the office the Professor used.

_"Stop it. You're going into a place where the line between right and wrong is blurred! This isn't you! You're better, what happened to the preaching you did when you first got me out of solitary confinement! Deals. CIA. The Government… You can't just use them without compensating something!"_

Scott frowned deeply, doubt settling deeply in him at the moment. What deals? Did he know more than what he let on, with everything? Did it have ties to Logan or the Project itself? What? Scott was thoroughly rattled, and he did not like this. He was reaching a point where the option of seriously dispatching the Professor himself from his position in this operation was becoming all too tempting. But would Scott be in the right, without even knowing the full story. And should he search for that story? What would he find and worse what would he learn.

The Professor's voice pulled him out of the darkening thoughts with a simple explanation,  
"Whether he's a man or animal or even a weapon. Whether he wants to come back at all. He has to decide to get up or stay down. It's solely up to Logan, we have no control over it and we shouldn't have a say either." Scott could tell the man was now on guard, no doubt catching Scott's own thoughts. There would no doubt be a conversation later that would push the decision either way. Whatever way it would end in.

Scott for once agreed though. It would be up to Logan, as much as Scott would want to hurry things up and help more than he is. He will have to wait. His attention was drawn towards the Professor who was heading towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" Scott asked calmly as he neared the observation window looking more closely at Logan who moved slightly but not much.

"I'm not as young as I used to be Scott, bathroom breaks are a required event for me." Charles answered, his tone taking a friendlier approach as he exited. Scott watched him leave for a moment before pulling up a chair and sitting down. A soft feminine voice suggested that he should rest, but he could not even consider the option at the moment. Not now. How could he when everything has spiraled out of control and revelations shook his beliefs to the very core. He was still unsettled and if he went to sleep than he felt like he was failing someone somehow. Even if that someone was himself or Logan or even Alex or Jean, Scott would not be able to take it. So he will stay behind and keep watch, Logan was a part of his team and was an X-Man despite being more or less fired. And Scott was the leader of the X-Men so it was his job to keep watch over his team. He did so for everyone else when they were injured. Even when they were allowed to venture out of the infirmary Scott kept an eye on them. In his own calm and collected way. It felt right to do so.

Scott vowed to himself that he would not make the same mistakes Professor Xavier did. He would not lie to his team, his students. If the information was delicate, he will handle it carefully and deliver it as gently as he could. But people deserved to know. It was a fine line between doing the right thing and wrong thing for the right reasons. Professor Xavier no doubt failed to keep to one side, Scott might make mistakes but at least he won't do as much damage as what's been done. He desperately hoped that he wouldn't.

Pinching the bridge of his nose just underneath his sunglasses he sighed. He should have grabbed coffee or at least had a coffee machine installed in the control room. This was going to be a long wait, that much is for sure.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Charles really was in a hard spot at the moment, the temptation to erase the memory or tweak it a bit when it comes to Scott and others was far too great to simply ignore. He will not do it though; he could not allow himself to use his powers for that ability. It was selfish. And he was always preaching to the students that with the abilities they have comes the responsibility to use it and not abuse it. There was a fine line between the two and it was even easier to fall on either side considering the fact that it was not an easy balancing act to hold up. Like his own abilities for example. He could do so much with it, when it comes to the mind of course. He could see what you are thinking and he could hear what your thoughts are. He could easily spot a lie and see the truth. That took little to no effort on his part. Just like he could control your five senses enough to hide right in front of you, on most anyway.

But he could also control someone's will, their memory and lack of memory. He could kill you simply by turning off your mind as easy as it is to flip the light off in a room. He could make you do horrible things and good things. Charles could make you believe anything he wanted you to. All with a little bit of focus. And there was more than a fair share of situations where those options were as tempting as a sweet spoken promise. Charles would never willingly admit to those temptations unless the situation called for it, too much was riding not making a mistake. Far too much but there wasn't much to do about that now.

Charles stopped not too far away from the door to the jet hanger where Victor Creed no doubt took sanctuary in. Dark thoughts that promised bloodshed. Did that man never learn? Did he not realize that it was his willingness to be what he was that was partially responsible for his younger brothers current state? It was men like Victor Creed that gave the general population of mutants a bad name, it was so easy for anti-mutant groups to use people like Victor Creed to paint every other mutant the same way. Still, Charles believed there was hope for the man. And that might just be the romantic notions playing in Charles that helped him see that, it was what made it possible for him to be friends with Erik despite the darkness he saw in the angry man. Erik also made being friends too easy. Back then it was rare that someone could captivate him enough to associate with and not have it being wild nights with girls that usually ended with his sister dragging him home before he did something incredibly stupid.

Times were easier then.

With a deep breath he forced himself past the hanger. As much as he would love to give a speech on Victor's wrong decisions so far, he couldn't. Victor was like a temperamental child who was disobedient. Tell him to not do something, he will do it just to provoke you into either going through with punishment or finding out your weaker than you seem. And the state in the hanger was no doubt a sigh of a temper tantrum. So he will let Victor's dark thoughts run their course, like Charles believed that they would and he would adjust himself to trying a better approach. If not, than Charles might have to actually remove him from the property. For good.

~ Man ~ Weapon ~ Animal ~

Omega Red was not a man to be messed with; everyone who knew him and heard of him knew that. And the American soldier who was currently thinking himself to be better than Omega Red was going to get a surprise coming as soon as he gained his Carbonadium Synthesizer. For now he will play the part of the good henchman. The only thought that made waiting easier to bear was the promise of getting back at the little weapon Stryker coveted so badly and the C-Synthesizer.

{Just you wait.} Omega Red promised as he chuckled while staring out of a dusty window into an overgrown backyard. His coils out of sight and at first glance he would almost seem normal in appearance if not for his albino skin and red eyes. Omega Red knew that he would have to release the death spores soon; it was something that had to be done regularly without his C-Sync. He was incomplete and imperfect. Flawed. And all that did not sit well with the bulking Russian super soldier.


End file.
